THE    NUN    ENSIGN 


THE  NUN    ENSIGN 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE    SPANISH  WITH 
AN     INTRODUCTION    AND    NOTES     BY 

JAMES      FITZMAURICE-KELLY 

ALSO 

LA  MONJA    ALFEREZ 

A   PLAY    IN    THE   ORIGINAL    SPANISH 
BY     JUAN     PEREZ     DE     MONTALBAN 


ILLUSTRATED      BY      DANIEL     VIERGE 


BOSTON:      DANA      ESTES      AND 
COMPANY        PUBLISHERS      MCMIX 


All  rights  reserved.) 


TO 
ARCHER   MILTON    HUNTINGTON 

I   DEDICATE 

THIS  STORY  OF  PICARESQUE  ADVENTURES 
IN  THE  NEW  WORLD 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  .          .          .          .  .    xv 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NUN   ENSIGN 


CHAPTER  I. — Her  native  place,  parents,  birth,  educa- 
tion, escape,  and  wanderings  in  different 
parts  of  Spain .  .  .  .  I 


CHAPTER  II. — She  leaves  San  Lucar  for  Punta  de  Araya, 

Cartagena,  Nombre  de  Dios,  and  Panama  .     n 


CHAPTER  III. — With  her  master  Urquiza,  a  merchant  of 
Trujillo,  she  goes  from  Panama  to  the 
port  of  Paita,  and  thence  to  the  city  of 
Sana  .  .  .  .  .  .  15 


CHAPTER  IV. — She  goes  from  Sana  to  Trujillo — She  kills 

a  man  .  .  .  .  .  -23 


CHAPTER  V. — She  goes  from  Trujillo  to  Lima       .  .    27 


CHAPTER  VI. — She  reaches  Conception  in  Chile — Meets 
her  brother  there  —  Goes  to  Paicabi — Is 
present  at  the  battle  of  Valdivia — Obtains 
an  ensigncy — Retires  to  Nacimiento — Goes 
to  the  Valley  of  Puren,  and  returns  to  Con- 
cepcion, where  she  kills  two  men,  besides 
her  own  brother  .  .  .  .31 

vii 


CONTENTS  PAGE 

CHAPTER  VII. — She  goes  from  Conception  to  Tucuman  .    43 

CHAPTER  VIII. — She  goes  from  Tucuman  to  Potosi         .    51 
CHAPTER  IX.— She  goes  from  Potosi  to  Los  Chunchos     .    55 

CHAPTER  X. — She  goes  to  the  city  of  La  Plata       .  .    59 

t 
CHAPTER  XI. — She  goes  to  Las  Charcas     .  .  .65 

CHAPTER  XII. — She  leaves  Las  Charcas  for  Piscobamba  .    69 


CHAPTER  XIII. — She  goes  to  the  city  of    Cochabamba 

and  returns  to  La  Plata          .  .  -75 


CHAPTER  XIV. — She  goes  from  La  Plata  to  Piscobamba 

and  Mizque     .  .  .  .  -83 


CHAPTER  XV. — She  goes  to  the  city  of  La  Paz — She  kills 

a  man  .  .  .  .  .  -87 


CHAPTER  XVI. — She  departs  to  the  city  of  Cuzco  .  .    91 


CHAPTER  XVII. — She  reaches  Lima,  and  leaves  it  to  fight 
the  Dutch — She  is  shipwrecked,  and  res- 
cued by  their  fleet — They  set  her  ashore  at 
Paita — Thence  she  returns  to  Lima  .  .  93 

viii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XVIII. — At  Cuzco  she  kills  the  new  Cid,  and 

is  wounded      .  .  .  .  -99 

CHAPTER  XIX.— She  leaves  Cuzco  for  Guamanga — She 
crosses  the  bridge  of  Andahuailas  and 
Guancavelica  .  .  .  .  105 

CHAPTER  XX. — She  reaches  Guamanga — And  what  hap- 
pened  to  her  there  till  she  made  her 
avowals  to  the  Lord  Bishop  .  .  .  109 

CHAPTER  XXI. — Dressed  in  a  nun's  habit,  she  goes  from 
Guamanga  to  Lima  by  order  of  his  Lordship 
the  Archbishop,  and  enters  the  Trinitarian 
convent — She  leaves  it,  returns  to  Gua- 
manga, and  goes  on  to  Santa  Fe  de  Bogota 
and  Tenerife  .....  121 

CHAPTER  XXII. — She  embarks  at  Tenerife  and  goes  to 
Cartagena,  and  thence  starts  for  Spain  with 
the  fleet  .  .  .  .  .125 

CHAPTER  XXIII.— She  leaves  Cadiz  for  Seville,  and 
leaves  Seville  for  Madrid,  Pamplona,  and 
Rome ;  but,  having  been  robbed  in  Pied- 
mont, she  returns  to  Spain  .  .  .129 

CHAPTER  XXIV.— She  leaves  Madrid  for  Barcelona         .  133 

CHAPTER  XXV.— She  goes  from  Barcelona  to  Genoa,  and 

thence  to  Rome          ....  137 

CHAPTER  XXVI.— From  Rome  she  goes  to  Naples  .  143 

ix 


CONTENTS  PAGE 

LA   MONJA   ALFEREZ 145 

NOTES  TO  INTRODUCTION     ...  .  289 

NOTES  TO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  .....  299 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING  PAGE 

"  My  parents  brought  me  up  at  home "  .  .  i 


"The  nuns  being  in  choir"          ....        2 
"  I  sallied  forth  into  the  street "  .  .  .  .3 

"I  cut  off  my  hair"  .  .  .  .  -4 

"  Don  Juan  came  out  on  the  staircase "  6 

"Some  nuns  asked  me  into  the  choir"  .  .  .8 

"I  jumped  on  shore"         .  .  .  .  -13 

"A  negro  came  in"  .  .  .  .  -24 

"I  enlisted"  .  .  .  .  .  -29 

"I  killed  a  cacique  who  was  carrying  the  standard"  .      35 
"  I  gave  him  a  thrust "  .  .  .  -41 

"  We  all  three  journeyed  together "  .  -44 

xi 


ILLUSTRATIONS  FACING  PAGE 

"Shots  were  exchanged,  they  missed  us,  two  of  them 

fell" 52 

"They  led  her  forth  to  her  house"        .  .  .61 

"In  charge   of   ten  thousand   sheep   of   burden,  and 

over  a  hundred  Indians"       .  .  .  .66 

i 
"I  ran  my  point  into  him,  and  he  fell  dead"  .  .      71 

"I  came  to  the  gibbet"     .           .            .  .  72 

"He  blazed  at  us  with  his  musket"       .  .  -79 

"It  may  be  another  horse  altogether"    .  .  .96 

"  I  nailed  his  hand  to  the  table  "             .  .  .100 

"They  carried  me  one  night  to  St.  Francis's"  .  .     102 

"I  laid  the  constable  low  with  a  pistol-shot"  .  .     106 

"I  place  myself  at  the  feet  of   your  most  illustrious 

Lordship"          .  .  .  .  -US 

xii 


ILLUSTRATIONS  FACING  PAGE 

"There  the  whole  convent  awaited  us"  .  .118 

"I  embarked  on  his  flagship"      ....     126 
"We  were  in  danger  of  drowning"        .  .  .     127 

"A  hundred   slashes  to  anybody  who  tries  to  defend 

you" 144 


Xlll 


INTRODUCTION 


XV 


THOUGH  many  fabulous  details  have 
been  interpolated  in  the  current  history 
of  her  exploits,  they  do  not  justify  any  doubt 
as  to  the  existence  of  Catalina  de  Erauso, 
the  runaway  Basque  novice,  whose  real  name 
has  been  completely  overshadowed  by  the 
somewhat  loose  designation  of  La  Monja 
Alfirez — the  Nun  Ensign — which  her  Spanish 
contemporaries  conferred  on  her.  The  evi- 
dence is  strong.  A  baptismal  certificate 
proves  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  Captain 
Miguel  de  Erauso  and  his  wife  Maria  Pe"rez 
de  Galarraga,  and  that  she  was  born  at  San 
Sebastian  on,  or  shortly  before,  February  10, 
I592.1  If  the  Spanish  Basques  have  con- 
tributed comparatively  little  to  art  and  letters, 
they  have  always  been  noted  for  their  devo- 
tional fervour  and  practical  enterprise.  As  a 
national  proverb  puts  it  :  Iglesia,  6  mar,  6 
casa  real,  quien  quiere  medrar.  The  roll 
of  Basque  heroes,  from  Ignacio  Loyola  to 
Tomas  Zumalacdrregui,  shows  that  they  have 
laid  this  advice  to  heart,  and  have  stead- 
fastly sought  distinction  in  the  Church,  at 
sea,  or  in  the  king's  service.  "  Church  or 
xvi 


sea "  can  need  no  explanation,  and  "  the 
king's  household "  is  rightly  interpreted  by 
Cervantes  in  Don  Quixote,'2-  where  the  Captive's 
father  bids  one  of  his  three  sons  to  "serve 
the  king  in  the  wars,  for  it  is  a  hard 
matter  to  win  admission  to  his  service  in 
his  household."  The  phrase  was  understood 
in  this  sense  by  the  Erauso  family.  The 
men  served  the  king ;  the  women  entered 
religion.  Catalina's  father  held  the  rank  of 
captain ;  of  her  three  brothers,  Miguel  was 
an  officer  in  the  army,  3  while  Francisco  and 
Domingo  served  in  the  navy .4  Two  of  her 
sisters,  Mari-Juan  and  Isabel,  were  professed 
in  the  convent  of  San  Sebastidn  el  Antiguo, 
at  San  Sebastian,  on  April  23,  1605,  and 
on  December  17,  1606,  respectively. 5 

It  is  certain  that  Catalina  de  Erauso  had 
entered  the  same  convent  in  1603,  or  earlier.6 
No  doubt  her  parents  intended  her  to  follow 
the  example  of  Mari-Juan  and  Isabel,  and  to 
become  a  nun.  The  religious  vocation  was 
shared  by  a  younger  sister,  Jacinta,  who 
made  her  vows  on  November  15,  1615,7 
but  it  was  not  given  to  Catalina.  Though 

B  xvii 


she  is  sometimes  described  as  a  professed 
nun,  the  balance  of  evidence  tends  to  show 
that  she  escaped  from  her  cell  into  the 
world  before  the  irrevocable  step  was  taken. 
Her  name  figures  in  the  convent  books  for 
the  last  time  in  March,  i6o7,8  and  then  she 
vanishes  for  some  eighteen  years.  Her 
reasons  for  breaking  cloister,  and  her  mode 
of  life  afterwards,  may  be  gathered  from  her 
formal  petition  to  Philip  IV.  ancl  from  the 
sworn  testimony  of  four  officers  under  whom 
she  had  served  in  South  America.  These 
independent  witnesses,  who  happened  to  be 
in  Madrid  at  the  time  of  Catalina  de  Erauso's 
residence  there  in  1625,  were  Luis  de 
Ce"spedes,  Captain-General  of  the  province 
of  Paraguay ;  Juan  Cortes  de  Monrroy, 
Captain-General  of  the  province  of  Veracruz  ; 
Juan  Recio  de  Le6n,  acting  Captain-General 
of  the  Peruvian  provinces  of  Tipodn  and  Los 
Chunchos  ;  and  Francisco  Pe>ez  de  Nava- 
rrete,  an  infantry  captain  who  had  met  Catalina 
de  Erauso  in  Chile  as  far  back  as  i6o8.9 

Apart  from  certain  chronological  difficulties, 
it  is  possible  to  piece  together  from  these 
xviii 


statements  a  fairly  coherent  story.  It  would 
appear  that  a  love  of  adventure — or,  as  she 
prefers  to  word  it  in  her  pious  and  loyal  way, 
"a  special  inclination  to  take  up  arms  in 
defence  of  the  Catholic  faith,  and  to  be  em- 
ployed in  your  Majesty's  service " — had  led 
Catalina  de  Erauso  to  disguise  herself  in 
man's  clothes,  to  sail  for  South  America,  to 
enlist  in  the  Spanish  army  under  the  name 
of  Alonso  Dfaz  Ramfrez  de  Guzman,10  and  to 
serve  from  1608  onwards  in  the  campaigns 
against  the  Indians  of  Chile  and  Peru.  Her 
disguise  was  never  penetrated — not  even  by 
her  brother,  Ensign  Miguel  de  Erauso,  whose 
company  she  frequented  in  Chile  without 
awakening  in  him  any  suspicion  of  her  sex  or 
identity.  According  to  the  depositions,  she 
served  under  Diego  Brabo  de  Sarabfa  for 
over  two  years ;  she  was  then  attached  to  the 
company  of  Captain  Gonzalo  Rodriguez,  on 
whose  recommendation  she  was  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  ensign  for  distinguished  service  in 
the  field ;  she  was  next  transferred  to  the 
company  of  Captain  Guillen  de  Casanova, 
commander  of  the  garrison  at  the  fortress  of 

xix 


Arauco ;  and  she  was  subsequently  one  of 
the  picked  soldiers  sent  to  occupy  Paicabi 
under  Alvaro  Nunez  de  Pineda.  In  Chile 
and  Peru  her  bravery  was  conspicuous.  She 
was  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Pure*n,  and  in 
minor  engagements ;  and  in  1620,  when 
serving  in  Juan  Recio  de  Leon's  company, 
she  was  entrusted  with  a  special  mission  to 
Guancavelica  and  Cuzco.  Later  she  would 
seem  to  have  been  concerned  in  a  street-brawl 
at  Guamanga,  and,  being  so  dangerously 
wounded  that  her  life  was  despaired  of,  she 
avowed  her  sex  to  the  Bishop  of  Guamanga. 
This  incident  may  be  conjecturally  assigned 
to  1622:"  at  any  rate  Captain  de  Navarrete 
swore  to  having  seen  Catalina  de  Erauso 
dressed  as  a  woman  at  Lima  in  1623,  and 
added  that  she  was  then  notorious  as  "  the 
Chile  Nun."" 

Her  disclosures  to  the  Bishop  of  Guamanga 
necessarily  ended  her  career  as  a  soldier,  and, 
under  the  name  of  Antonio  de  Erauso,^  she 
returned  to  Europe  towards  the  end  of  i624.J4 
Still  wearing  her  uniform,  she  roused  great 
curiosity  in  Spain  and  abroad ;  the  grave 

XX 


historian,  Gil  Gonzalez  Davila,  thought  her 
exploits  worth  recording  in  his  official  biography 
of  Philip  IIL.'S  and  they  were  discussed  in 
the  remote  East  Indies.16  Her  story,  as 
related  by  herself,  was  printed  at  Madrid  and 
Seville  ;  X7  an  enlarged  version  was  speedily 
forthcoming,18  a  supplementary  account  of 
her  deeds  was  produced  by  a  rival  pub- 
lisher,^ and  before  long  these  narratives 
were  dramatised  (with  unhistorical  adorn- 
ments) under  the  title  of  La  Monja  Alferez, 
by  Juan  P£rez  de  Montalbdn,20  the  favourite 
disciple  of  Lope  de  Vega.  Having  solicited 
and  obtained  a  modest  pension,  in  January, 
1625,  Catalina  de  Erauso  set  out  on  a  pilgrim- 
age to  Rome.  Her  experiences  were  of  an 
unpleasant  character.  She  was  arrested 
(apparently  in  the  neighbourhood  of  La  Tour 
du  Pin),21  was  accused  of  being  a  Spanish 
spy,  was  repeatedly  struck  and  cursed  as  "a 
hypocritical  Jewish  dog,"  or  "  Lutheran,"  was 
robbed  of  her  clothes,  money,  and  papers, 
and  was  imprisoned  in  irons  for  about  a  fort- 
night. Before  June  28th  she  was  evidently 
back  in  Spain,  for  on  that  day  she  lodged 

xxi 


before  the  authorities  at  Pamplona  an  affidavit 
recording  her  ill-treatment,  and  filed  cor- 
roborative statements  from  four  fellow-pil- 
grims.22 

She  succeeded  in  reaching  Rome  next  year, 
and,  on  June  5,  1626,  was  introduced  by  Fray 
Rodrigo  de  San  Miguel,  a  Spanish  Augus- 
tinian  monk,  to  Pietro  della  Valle  (II  Pelle- 
grino)  the  celebrated  traveller,  who  wrote  an 
account  of  his  visitor  for  the  benefit  of  Mario 
Schapone.23  He  describes  her  as  tall  and 
burly  for  a  woman,  artificially  flat-chested,  not 
plain  in  feature  and  yet  not  beautiful,  showing 
signs  of  hardship  rather  than  of  age ;  with 
black  hair,  cut  like  a  man's,  and  hanging  in 
a  mane,  as  was  customary  at  the  time.  She 
was  dressed  like  a  man,  in  the  Spanish  fashion, 
and  wore  a  sword,  tightly  belted  ;  her  head 
inclined  forwards,  and  her  shoulders  were 
slightly  stooped,  more  like  a  fiery  soldier 
than  like  a  courtier  given  to  gallantries ; 
epicene  rather  than  feminine  in  general  appear- 
ance, she  nevertheless  gesticulated  with  her 
plump  and  fleshy,  but  massive  and  powerful, 
hands  in  a  manner  vaguely  suggestive  of 
xxii 


her  sex.  Pietro  della  Valle  notes  with  quaint 
astonishment  that,  when  introduced  by  him 
to  Roman  nobles  and  ladies,  Catalina  de 
Erauso  showed  a  distinct  preference  for  men's 
conversation.  But  this  and  every  other 
eccentricity  was  forgiven  to  the  lioness  of  the 
season.  Roman  society  made  much  of  her  ; 
Urban  VIII.  granted  her  special  permission  to 
continue  wearing  man's  clothes  ;  and  she  sat 
for  her  portrait  to  the  fashionable  artist 
Francesco  Crescendo.  24 

However,  the  exacting  monotony  of  life  in 
Europe  seems  to  have  wearied  her  soon,  for 
on  July  21,  1630,  she  sailed  for  America 
once  more.25  If  local  tradition  is  to  be 
trusted,  she  was  still  untamed.  The  parents 
of  a  girl  at  Veracruz,  aware  that  the  so-called 
Antonio  de  Erauso  was  a  woman,  requested 
her  to  escort  their  daughter  to  Mexico.  She 
became  jealously  attached  to  her  charge,  re- 
sented her  young  friend's  subsequent  marriage, 
and,  in  a  letter  of  incomparable  arrogance, 
challenged  the  girl's  husband  to  a  duel.26 
After  observing  that  a  person  of  her  noble 
lineage  is  insulted  by  being  forbidden  the 

xxiii 


house,  she  refers  to  a  current  rumour  that  the 
husband  has  threatened  to  assassinate  her  if 
she  ventures  into  the  street  where  the  newly 
married  pair  live,  and  ends  with  this  defiance: 
"  Now,  although  I  am  a  woman,  as  this  seems 
a  thing  insufferable  to  my  valour,  in  order  that 
you  may  behold  my  prowess  and  achieve  your 
boast,  I  shall  await  you  at  the  back  of  St. 
James's  Church  from  one  to  six  o'clock."  27 
Friends  intervened  to  prevent  the  meeting, 
Catalina  sheathed  her  rapier,  and  set  about 
earning  a  lucrative  but  unromantic  living  as 
a  carrier.  A  prosperous  owner  of  negroes 
and  of  mules,  she  was  still  engaged  in  the 
carrying  business  when  the  Capuchin  monk, 
Nicolas  de  Renterfa,  saw  her  at  Veracruz  in 
i645.28  Time  had  dealt  gently  with  her,  all 
things  considered.  According  to  Rentena,  she 
was  regarded  as  a  person  of  great  courage, 
and  skilled  in  the  use  of  arms ;  she  was 
dressed  as  a  man,  wore  a  rapier  and  dagger 
with  silver  mountings,  looked  about  fifty  years 
of  age,  was  of  good  stature,  stoutish  build, 
and  dark  complexion,  with  a  few  hairs  repre- 
senting a  moustache.29  She  died  at  Cuitlaxtla 
xxiv 


in  1650  while  on  the  way  to  Veracruz.3°  She 
was  buried  with  considerable  pomp,  a  lauda- 
tory epitaph  was  inscribed  on  her  gravestone, 
and  three  years  later  a  "  Prodigious  Narrative  " 
of  her  eventful  career  was  published  at 
Mexico.31 

La  Monja  Alferez  is  not  one  of  Pe"rez  de 
Montalban's  best  plays,  and  it  did  little 
towards  keeping  the  heroine's  memory  alive. 
But  she  was  not  forgotten  by  the  people. 
Her  legend  throve  in  oral  and  other  forms,  and 
a  manuscript  narrative  of  her  adventures  in 
the  shape  of  an  autobiography  was  apparently 
in  the  possession  of  the  poet  and  dramatist 
Candido  Maria  Trigueros  at  some  date 
previous  to  May  24,  1784.  On  that  day  a 
copy  of  the  manuscript  was  collated  with  the 
original  at  Seville,  by  copyists  in  the  employ- 
ment of  Juan  Bautista  Munoz,  the  future 
author  of  a  fragmentary  but  valuable  Historic* 
del  Nuevo  Mundo ;  32  and  later  on  this  tran- 
script came  into  the  hands  of  Francisco 
Bauzd,  director  of  the  Hydrographical  Museum 
at  Madrid,  who  lent  it  to  his  friend  Joaqufn 
Maria  de  Ferrer.  Ferrer,  who  was  a  Basque, 

xxv 


might  have  been  expected  to  know  something 
of  Catalina  de  Erauso's  history ;  but  clearly 
he  had  never  heard  of  her,  for  he  states  that, 
on  first  reading  the  manuscript,  he  took  it  to 
be  a  piece  of  wholesale  invention,  "a  novel 
written  under  the  name  of  an  imaginary  person 
who  had  never  existed  in  the  world."  On 
learning  that  Gonzalez  Davila  had  seen 
Catalina  de  Erauso,  and  had  had  a  long  conver- 
sation with  her  in  his  house  at  IVfradrid  in  or 
about  December,  1624,  Ferrer  saw  his  mistake, 
and,  during  his  exile  at  Paris,  he  once  more 
borrowed  the  copy  33  from  Bauza,  then  a 
political  refugee  in  London.  He  caused 
investigations  to  be  made  at  San  Sebastian 
and  in  the  Archives  of  the  Indies  at  Seville, 
unearthed  important  documents  concerning 
Catalina  de  Erauso,  and  after  vainly  seeking 
for  Crescentio's  portrait  of  her,  came  upon 
another  likeness  by  Pacheco,  the  father-in-law 
of  Velazquez,  in  the  house  of  his  friend  Colonel 
Andreas  Daniel  Berthold  von  Schepeler  at 
Aachen.  34  The  discovery  was  most  opportune, 
for  Ferrer  had  already  made  up  his  mind  to 
print  the  text  of  Bauza's  manuscript,  and  an 
xxvi 


engraving  of  the  portrait  by  Pacheco  duly 
appeared  at  the  beginning  of  the  Historia  de 
la  Monja  Alfdrez,  Dona  Catalina  de  Erauso, 
escrita  por  ella  mtsma,  edited  by  Ferrer, 
and  published  35  at  Paris  in  1829. 

Habent  sua  fata  libelli. — Ferrer,  though  he 
did  other  useful  literary  work,  is  now  chiefly 
remembered  as  the  editor  of  the  text  con- 
tained in  Bauza's  manuscript.  Yet  the  imme- 
diate circumstances  of  publication  were  against 
him.  It  is  possible  that  the  number  of  people 
in  Paris  who  knew  Spanish  was  relatively 
larger  seventy-eight  years  ago  than  it  is  now ; 
but  the  soldiers  who  had  served  in  the  Penin- 
sular War  were  not  greatly  addicted  to  litera- 
ture, the  Spanish  refugees  could  not  afford 
such  luxuries  as  books,  and  the  interest  in 
Spanish  matters  professed  by  the  Romantiques 
was  mostly  an  affectation.  At  the  best,  a 
Spanish  work  printed  in  Paris  could  not  be 
expected  to  circulate  widely,  and  there  may 
be  some  truth  in  the  assertion  that  the  revo- 
lution of  1830  ruined  Ferrer's  chances  of 
success.  However,  this  argument  will  not  be 
pressed  too  far  by  any  one  who  remembers 

xxvii 


that  the  Orientates  appeared  in  the  same  year 
as  the  Historia  de  la  Monja  Alferez.  Still, 
the  Spanish  book  attracted  some  attention 
and  slowly  made  its  way.  During  the  autumn 
of  1829  it  was  favourably  criticised  in  the 
Revue  encycloptdique  by  Andres  Muriel ;  36 
in  1830  it  was  issued  in  French  by  the  elder 
Bossange,  37  and  in  German  by  Colonel  von 
Schepeler,  38  the  owner  of  the  Pacheco  por- 
trait ;  and  eight  years  later  Ferrer's  edition 
was  reprinted  in  Spain.  Thenceforward  curi- 
osity concerning  Catalina  de  Erauso  has  been 
sustained.  She  was  reintroduced  to  the  general 
public  in  France  by  the  Duchesse  d'Abrantes 
in  the  Musde  des  Families  for  1839,39  and  to 
a  more  fastidious  circle  of  readers  by  Count 
Alexis  de  Valon  in  the  Revue  des  deux  mondes 
for  1847.4°  Three  months  later  De  Quincey 
followed  in  Taifs  Edinburgh  Magazine  with 
an  article  clumsily  entitled  The  Nautico-Mili- 
tary  Nun  of  Spain.  4*  Years  afterwards 
Ferrer's  text  served  as  the  basis  of  La  Monja 
Alftrez,  a  zarzuela  by  Carlos  Coello,  which 
was  produced  at  the  Teatro  de  Jovellanos  in 
Madrid  on  November  24,  1875  ;  and  in  1892 
xxviii 


the  story  of  Catalina  de  Erauso  was  the  subject 
of  a  brief  but  shrewd  criticism  published  by 
Sr.  D.  Antonio  Sanchez  Moguel  in  the 
columns  of  a  popular  newspaper.  42  Lastly, 
in  1894,  the  original  Spanish  had  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  once  more  translated  into 
French  prose,  this  version  being  the  work  of 
the  poet  of  Les  Trophies,  Jose*  Maria  de 
Heredia.  43 


It  is  plain  that  the  book  has  more  than 
ordinary  interest  for  readers  of  different 
countries  and  times,  and  we  would  willing 
know  more  concerning  the  history  of  the 
manuscript  which  Mufioz  had  copied.  No 
one  can  read  Ferrer's  text  without  noticing 
that  it  contains  its  full  share  of  the  inaccu- 
racies, discrepancies,  and  inconsistencies  which 
disfigure  most  works,  and  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  explain  all  of  these  as  the  results  of  care- 
lessness or  literary  inexperience.  No  doubt 
it  was  common  enough  for  people  in  the 

xxix 


seventeenth  century  not  to  know  their  own 
ages,  and  it  was  as  common  in  Spain  as  else- 
where. Cervantes  and — still  more — the  mem- 
bers of  his  family  were  weak  in  the  matter 
of  dates,  and  Lope  de  Vega  treats  these 
distressing  minutiae  with  the  contempt  of  a 
handsome  poet  who  has  discovered  the  secret 
of  eternal  youth.  But  there  are  degrees  of 
imaginative  chronology,  and  greater  exactitude 
is  expected  in  a  prose  record  than  in  a  copy 
of  verses.  The  autobiography  of  the  Nun 
Ensign  gives  the  date  of  her  birth  as  1585 
instead  of  1592,  and,  starting  from  this  point, 
the  chronology  is  necessarily  wrong  through- 
out the  first  chapter.  Clearly  Catalina  de 
Erauso  cannot  have  been  sent  to  the  convent 
at  San  Sebastian  in  1589,  three  years  before 
she  was  born ;  clearly,  too,  she  cannot  have 
quarrelled  with  the  professed  nun  Catalina  de 
Aliri  in  1600  (or  earlier),  for  the  simple  reason 
that  Catalina  de  Aliri  was  not  professed  till 
1605.  And  these  difficulties  are  not  isolated 
specimens.  According  to  the  autobiography 
Catalina  de  Erauso,  after  leaving  her  convent, 
roamed  about  Spain  in  various  employments 

XXX 


for  more  than  three  years  before  sailing  for 
America ;  44  and,  as  she  was  still  at  San 
Sebastian  in  March,  1607,  this  would  mean 
that  she  did  not  start  for  the  Indies  till  1610. 
This,  however,  is  incompatible  with  the  state- 
ment that,  before  taking  part  in  the  battle 
of  Puren  (1608),  she  had  served  for  three 
years  under  her  brother  Miguel  de  Erauso  at 
Conception,  and  (apparently)  for  another  three 
years  at  Paicabf.  It  is  beyond  ordinary 
ingenuity  to  reconcile  these  assertions  with 
the  established  fact  that  Catalina  de  Erauso 
was  still  at  San  Sebastian,  a  novice  of  fifteen, 
in  the  spring  of  1607. 

These  and  other  evident  discrepancies  in- 
duced Ferrer  to  put  forward  the  theory  that 
the  adventures  recorded  in  the  present  volume 
befell  a  woman  who,  while  serving  in  Chile, 
had  made  acquaintance  with  Miguel  de 
Erauso,  had  learned  from  him  some  details 
of  his  family,  and  had  assumed  the  name 
of  his  runaway  sister.  It  is  not  recorded  that 
Catalina  de  Erauso,  on  her  return  to  Spain 
in  1624,  visited  Guipiizcoa,  and  Ferrer,  making 
the  most  of  the  fact  (as  he  very  fairly  might), 

xxxi 


explains  the  omission  by  attributing  it  to  fear 
of  detection.45  This  is  far  from  being  con- 
vincing, but  it  is  at  least  an  attempt  to  account 
for  inconsistencies  which  have  been  ignored 
by  critics  more  famous  than  Ferrer — as,  for 
example,  De  Quincey.  "  The  reader,"  writes 
De  Quincey,  "is  to  remember  that  this  is  no 
romance,  or  at  least  no  fiction,  that  he  is 
reading."  The  essayist  here  assumes  the  point 
which  it  is  his  duty  to  prove,  and  his  method 
has  the  merit  of  being  convenient,  but  it  is 
not  illuminating;  and  in  this  particular  matter 
De  Quincey,  from  whom  most  English  readers 
derive  their  information  concerning  Catalina 
de  Erauso  and  her  adventures,  is  not  a  trust- 
worthy guide. 

It  is  just  conceivable  that  some  subscribers 
to  Taifs  Edinburgh  Magazine  sixty  years 
ago  enjoyed  the  facetiousness  of  De 
Quincey's  references  to  Catalina  de  Erauso's 
father  as  a  "proud  and  lazy  Spanish  gentle- 
man "  (a  poor  figure  by  the  side  of  the  typical 
"  British  reader,  who  makes  it  his  glory  to 
work  hard  ") ;  or  as  an  "  old  toad,"  transformed 
a  little  later  into  "an  old  crocodile"  with  an 
xxxii 


"abominable  mouth."  It  is  true  that  we  know 
absolutely  nothing  about  the  habits  or 
appearance  of  Captain  Miguel  de  Erauso, 
but  such  prosaic  considerations  seldom  detain 
a  humorist.  So,  also,  the  allusions  to  "Spanish 
constitutions  and  charters,  Spanish  financial 
reforms,  Spanish  bonds,  and  other  little 
varieties  of  Spanish  ostentatious  mendacity," 
may  possibly  have  been  to  the  taste  of  our 
blameless  grandfathers.  But,  apart  from  these 
graceful  international  compliments,  there  is 
little  substance  in  De  Quincey's  study.  This 
is  not  surprising,  for  it  is  certain  that  he 
had  never  read,  nor  even  handled,  the  book 
on  which  his  essay  purports  to  be  based.46 
Had  he  once  glanced  at  Pacheco's  portrait 
of  Catalina,  he  could  not  have  spoken  of 
her  as  "eminently  handsome,"  or  "blooming 
as  a  rose-bush  in  June,"  and  so  forth ; 
had  he  read  the  unflattering  description  in 
chapter  vii.  of  the  half-caste's  daughter — 
"  very  black,  and  as  ugly  as  the  devil  " — 
he  could  not  have  rhapsodised  over  this 
lovely  antelope  (as  he  calls  her),  uniting 
"  the  stately  tread  of  Andalusian  women  with 

c  xxxiii 


the  innocent  voluptuousness  of  Peruvian 
eyes."  This  is  irrelevant  fantasy,  and  there 
is  much  more  of  the  same  kind.  De  Quincey's 
essay  is  partly  a  tissue  of  extravagant  fables 
and  partly  a  travesty  of  events  recorded  in 
Ferrer's  text.  Two  examples  out  of  a  score 
will  suffice  as  illustrations.  De  Quincey 
describes  the  street-ruffians  at  Valladolid  as 

pelting  Catalina  de   Erauso  with  stones,  and 

«. 

adds  that  Don  Francisco  de  Cardenas,  "a 
gallant  young  cavalier  who  had  witnessed 
from  his  window  the  whole  affair,"  rescued 
her  from  the  alguazils  who  had  unjustly 
arrested  her,  "  and  instantly  offered  to  Catalina 
a  situation  amongst  his  retinue."  This  is 
burlesque.  De  Quincey  confuses  Valladolid 
with  Bilbao,  ascribes  to  street-ruffians  Cata- 
lina's  stone-throwing,  and  substitutes  Cardenas 
for  Arellano,  thus  mistaking  the  name  of  a 
knight  of  Santiago  at  Estella  in  Navarre  for 
that  of  a  cloth-merchant's  mistress  at  Trujillo 
in  the  Indies.  Again,  De  Quincey  described 
Catalina  in  a  wreck,  refusing  to  leave  her 
captain,  constructing  a  raft,  and  breaking  open 
with  her  axe  "a  box  laden  with  gold  coins, 
xxxiv 


reputed  to  be  the  King  of  Spain's."  This 
is  pure  invention ;  in  chapter  iii.  of  the  text 
Catalina  is  stated  to  have  swum  ashore,  and 
there  is  not  a  syllable  about  captains,  rafts, 
axes,  or  boxes  laden  with  gold  coins. 

And  the  curious  feature  of  this  gratuitous 
invention  is  that  it  is  not  De  Quincey's  own. 
He  simply  plagiarises  these  fabrications  from 
Valon — "  a  Frenchman,  who  sadly  misjudges 
Kate,  looking  at  her  through  a  Parisian  opera- 
glass  " — and,  while  he  patronises  Valon,  he 
follows  the  article  in  the  Revue  des  deux  mondes 
so  closely  that  he  reproduces  some  obvious 
misprints.  Professor  Masson,  the  editor  of 
De  Quincey's  works,  frankly  admits  that  the 
article  in  Taifs  Edinburgh  Magazine  is  "a 
De  Quinceyfied  translation  from  the  French," 
though  the  writer's  "craft  in  language  en- 
abled him  to  make  good  his  assertion  that 
his  narrative  contained  '  no  one  sentence 
derived  from  any  foreign  one.' "  This  is  the 
least  that  can  be  said.  It  is  clear  that  De 
Quincey  had  never  read  the  original  Spanish, 
that  he  knew  nothing  of  Catalina  de  Erauso 
beyond  what  he  could  gather  from  Valon's 

XXXV 


imaginative  report,  that  he  copies  without 
acknowledgment  all  Valon's  romantic  ara- 
besques, and  that  he  adds  insult  to  injury 
by  jocularly  expressing  a  wish  that  Catalina 
"were  but  here,  to  give  a  punch  on  the  head 
to  that  fellow  who  traduces  her."  The  wish 
to  punch  Valon's  head  was  a  healthy,  instinctive 
prompting  of  nature  :  for  the  article  in  the 
Revue  des  deux  mondes  was  little  better  than 
a  hoax,  and  De  Quincey  was  a*  victim.  In 
these  circumstances  no  great  weight  need  be 
given  to  his  confident  views  on  the  authenticity 
of  the  text. 

This  question  of  authenticity  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  considered  seriously  by 
Jose"  Maria  de  Heredia,  whose  opinion  on 
such  a  point  would  be  much  more  valuable 
than  De  Quincey 's.  Without  any  suspicion 
of  a  fraud,  Heredia  accepted  the  Historia  de 
la  Monja  Alftrez  for  what  it  professes  to  be 
— a  genuine  autobiography — and  he  believed 
the  book  to  have  been  written  by  Catalina  de 
Erauso  to  ease  her  conscience  of  the  load 
that  weighed  on  it  during  her  voyage  back 
to  Spain.  47  This,  however,  is  an  assumption 
xxxvi 


which  takes  no  account  of  the  strange  dis- 
crepancies between  the  narrative  and  the 
historical  facts.  These  discrepancies  are  so 
numerous  that  Sr.  D.  Manuel  Serrano  y  Sanz, 
in  a  work  of  great  learning^8  puts  forward 
the  radical  theory  that  the  Historia  is  a 
forgery,  not  written  by  the  Nun  Ensign, 
but  concocted  about  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century  by  Trigueros,  the  owner 
of  the  original  manuscript. 

If  any  forgery  took  place  it  must  have 
occurred  earlier  than  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  for,  as  we  learn  from 
Munoz,  his  copy  was  collated  with  the 
original  in  May,  1784,  and,  as  for  the 
ascription  to  Trigueros,  it  is  merely  conjec- 
tural. Trigueros  was  a  poet  and  playwright 
of  some  repute  in  his  own  day  ;49  but  no 
one  who  can  avoid  it  now  reads  the  twelve 
cantos  of  El  poeta  fildsofo ;  such  original 
plays  as  El  Precipitado  and  Egilona  are 
practically  inaccessible,  and  the  same  may 
be  said  of  La  Muerte  de  Abel,  an  oratorio 
adapted  from  Metastasio.  Trigueros  shows 
to  most  advantage  in  his  recasts  of  Lope  de 

xxxvii 


Vega's  plays,  and  these  workmanlike  arrange- 
ments no  doubt  helped  to  keep  alive  the 
memory  of  the  great  dramatist ;  5°  yet,  at 
its  best,  Trigueros's  style  is  curiously  unlike 
what  Heredia  calls  the  langue  nette,  concise 
et  male  of  the  Historia.  If  the  book  were 
proved  to  be  by  Trigueros  we  should  have 
to  say  that  it  deserved  to  outlive  his  other 
works  (as  it  has  outlived  them),  and  that  it 
was  much  more  interesting  than  anything 
published  by  him  under  his  own  name ;  but 
the  theory  of  his  intervention  has  no  solid 
foundation. 

The  truth  is  that  we  have  no  evidence  as 
to  when,  or  by  whom,  the  Historia  was 
written.  My  own  conjecture  would  be  (and 
so  far  I  agree  with  Sr.  Serrano  y  Sanz) 
that  the  work  was  mainly  pieced  together  by 
some  deft  hand  from  the  genuine  Relaciones 
for  which  Catalina  was  responsible,  and  that 
the  episode  of  the  New  Cid  was  elaborated 
from  Perez  de  Montalban's  play,  La  Monja 
Alftres  ;  but  this  is  a  purely  personal  im- 
pression, and  nothing  more.  Meanwhile,  we 
must  guard  against  the  temptation  to  exag- 
xxxviii 


gerate  the  significance  of  the  discrepancies 
in  the  text  Though  undoubtedly  damaging, 
they  are  not  necessarily  fatal  to  the  theory 
that  the  book  is — at  least  in  substance — an 
autobiography.  In  Spanish  literature  the 
dividing  line  between  trustworthy  personal 
narrative  and  certain  specimens  of  picaresque 
romance  is  faint  and  shifting.  Though  the 
Comentarios  of  Diego  Duque  de  Estrada, 5 *  the 
Vida  of  Miguel  de  Castro, 52  and  the  Vida  of 
Captain  Alonso  de  ContrerasSS  are  presented 
as  real  autobiographies,  no  critic  supposes  that 
the  confessions  of  these  ingenuous  soldiers  are 
absolutely  exact  in  detail ;  but,  notwithstand- 
ing the  presence  of  an  imaginative  element, 
they  are  accepted  as  being  essentially  true, 
and  the  Comentarios  of  Duque  de  Estrada 
is  issued  as  an  historical  document. 54  The 
Historia  de  la  Monja  Alfdrez  may,  perhaps, 
be  allowed  a  place  near  these  works. 
Whoever  wrote  it,  and  whatever  its  in- 
accuracies, it  appears  to  be  mainly  based 
upon  authentic  accounts  derived  from  the 
Nun  Ensign  herself;  it  gives  a  vivid  idea 
of  the  vicissitudes  undergone  by  a  strange, 

xxxix 


truculent  adventuress  ;  and  the  narrative 
compensates  for  its  lack  of  literary  artifice 
by  its  sober,  laconic  simplicity. 


Pe"rez  de  Montalban's  play,  which  seems 
to  ha\'e  been  utilised  in  the  text,  exists  only 
in  the  form  of  a  suelta  which  was  already  a 
rarity  eighty  years  ago  when  Ferrer  reprinted 
it.  As  this  comedia  famosa  is  now  rarer  than 
ever,  I  have  thought  it  advisable  to  reproduce 
it  at  the  end  of  the  present  translation. 

JAMES    FITZMAURICE-KELLY. 


xl 


'  My  parents  brought  me  up  at  home.' 


CHAPTER  I.  HER  NATIVE  PLACE,  PARENTS, 
BIRTH,  EDUCATION,  ESCAPE,  AND  WANDER- 
INGS IN  DIFFERENT  PARTS  OF  SPAIN. 


I  DONA  CATALINA  DE  ERAUSO, 
5  was  born  in  the  town  of  San  Sebastian, 
in  Guipiizcoa,  in  the  year  I585,1  daughter  of 
Captain  Don  Miguel  de  Erauso  and  of  Dona 
Maria  PeYez  de  Galarraga  y  Arce,  natives  and 
residents  of  the  same  town.  My  parents 
brought  me  up  at  home  with  my  brothers2 
and  sisters  3  till  I  was  four  years  old.  In 
15894  they  placed  me  in  the  convent  of  San 
Sebastian  el  Antiguo  in  the  said  city,  be- 
longing to  the  Dominican  nuns,  under  my 
aunt,  Dona  Ursula  de  Unza  y  Sarasti,  first 
cousin  of  my  mother,  and  prioress  of  that 
convent ;  there  I  was  brought  up  till  I  was 
fifteen,  and  then  the  question  of  my  pro- 
fession arose. 

When  almost  at  the  end  of  my  year's 
novitiate  I  had  a  quarrel  with  a  professed 
nun  called  Dona  Catalina  de  Aliri,  who 
entered  the  convent  as  a  widow,  and  made 
her  profession.  5  She  was  a  brawny  woman, 
and  I  a  slip  of  a  girl.  She  laid  violent 
hands  on  me,  and  I  resented  it.  On  the 
night  of  March  18,  1600,  the  vigil  of  St. 
Joseph,  while  the  community  was  rising  for 
2 


'  The  nuns  being  in  choir.' 


'  /  sallied  forth  into  the  street: 


midnight  Matins,  I  entered  the  choir  and 
found  my  aunt  kneeling  there.  She  called 
me,  and,  handing  me  the  key  of  her  cell, 
told  me  to  fetch  her  breviary.  I  went  to 
get  it,  opened  the  door,  and  saw  the  con- 
vent keys  hanging  on  a  nail.  I  left  the 
cell  open,  and  took  my  aunt  her  key  and 
breviary.  The  nuns  being  in  choir  and 
Matins  solemnly  begun,  -I  went  up  to  my 
aunt  and  asked  leave  to  retire  as  I  was 
not  well.  Placing  her  hand  on  my  head  my 
aunt  said,  "  Go  and  lie  down ! "  I  left  the 
choir,  lit  a  lamp,  went  to  my  aunt's  cell, 
and  took  from  it  scissors,  some  thread,  and 
a  needle ;  I  took  some  reales  de  d  ocho 6 
which  were  there.  I  took  the  convent  keys, 
came  out,  and  set  to  work  opening  and 
shutting  the  doors,  and  at  the  last  one — 
which  was  the  street-door — I  left  my  scapular, 
and  sallied  forth  into  the  street,  without  ever 
having  seen  it  before,  and  not  knowing 
which  way  to  turn  nor  where  to  go.  I 
cannot  say  which  road  I  took,  but  I  came 
upon  a  grove  of  chestnuts  outside  the  town, 
close  behind  the  convent,  and  took  shelter 

3 


there,  and  spent  three  days  planning,  fitting, 
and  cutting  out  clothes.  I  cut  and  made 
myself  a  pair  of  breeches  out  of  a  blue 
cloth  skirt  that  I  had  on,  and  out  of  a 
green  linsey  petticoat  that  I  was  wearing  I 
made  a  doublet  and  gaiters.  As  I  could  not 
see  my  way  to  making  anything  out  of  my 
habit  I  left  it  there.  I  cut  off  my  hair  and 
threw  it  away,  and  the  third  night  I  started 
off  I  knew  not  where,  scurrying c  over  roads 
and  skirting  villages  so  as  to  get  far  away,  and 
at  last  reached  Vitoria,  which  is  nearly  twenty 
leagues  distant  from  San  Sebastidn,  on  foot 
and  weary,  and  having  eaten  nothing  but  the 
herbs  that  I .  found  by  the  roadside. 

I  entered  Vitoria  not  knowing  where  to 
find  refuge.  Within  a  few  days  I  was 
engaged  by  Doctor  Don  Francisco  de  Cerralta, 
a  professor  there.  Though  he  did  not  know 
me,  he  made  no  difficulty  about  taking  me 
in,  and  he  clothed  me.  He  was  married  to 
a  first  cousin  of  my  mother's,  as  I  gathered 
later,  but  I  did  not  reveal  myself.  I  stayed 
with  him  some  three  months,  during  which, 
seeing  that  I  read  Latin  fluently,  he  took  a 
4 


greater  liking  to  me,  and  wanted  to  keep  me 
at  my  studies ;  and,  finding  that  I  refused,  he 
persisted  and  went  the  length  of  thrashing 
me.  On  this  I  made  up  my  mind  to  leave 
him,  and  did  so.  I  took  some  money  from 
him,  and,  agreeing  to  pay  twelve  reales  to  a 
carrier  who  was  starting  for  Valladolid, 
which  is  forty-five  leagues  away,  set  out 
with  him. 

On  reaching  Valladolid,  where  the  Court 
then  was,  I  soon  got  a  place  as  page  to  Don 
Juan  de  Idiaquez,  the  King's  secretary,  who 
clothed  me  well.  I  there  took  the  name  of 
Francisco  Loyola,  and  was  very  comfortable 
for  seven  months.  At  the  end  of  this  time, 
while  I  was  at  the  door  one  night  with  another 
page,  my  comrade,  my  father  arrived  and 
asked  us  if  Senor  Don  Juan  was  at  home. 
My  comrade  said  that  he  was.  My  father  told 
him  to  inform  Don  Juan  that  he  was  there. 
The  page  went  upstairs  and  I  remained  there 
with  my  father,  neither  of  us  speaking  a 
word  and  he  not  recognising  me.  The  page 
returned,  saying  that  he  was  to  go  upstairs ; 
and  up  he  went,  with  me  in  his  wake.  Don 

5 


Juan  came  out  on  the  staircase,  and,  embrac- 
ing him,  said,  "  Senor  Captain,  what  a  wel- 
come visit  this  is  ! "  My  father  replied  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  make  it  clear  that  he  was  in 
trouble.  Don  Juan  went  into  a  room,  said 
goodbye  to  a  visitor  who  had  called  on  him, 
came  back,  and  they  sat  down.  He  asked  my 
father  what  the  news  was,  and  my  father  told 
him  how  that  girl  of  his  had  left  the  convent, 
and  that  he  had  come  into  the  neighbourhood 
to  search  for  her.  Don  Juan  showed  that  he 
was  much  concerned  because  of  my  father's 
distress,  and  also  because  he  himself  was  very 
fond  of  me ;  likewise  because  of  the  convent, 
of  which  he  was  patron  (inasmuch  as  his 
ancestors  had  founded  it),  and  because  of  the 
town  where  he  was  born.  After  listening  to 
the  conversation  and  to  my  father's  laments 
I  retreated  to  my  room,  bundled  up  my 
clothes,  and  made  off,  taking  with  me  eight 
doubloons  7  which  I  chanced  to  have.  I  went 
to  a  tavern,  where  I  slept  that  night,  learned 
that  a  carrier  was  leaving  next  morning  for 
Bilbao,  and  came  to  terms  with  him.  We 
started  at  daybreak,  I  not  knowing  what  to  do 
6 


nor  where  to  go,  but  letting  myself  be  carried 
along  like  a  feather  by  the  wind. 

At  the  end  of  a  long  stretch — something 
like  forty  leagues,  I  fancy — I  reached  Bilbao, 
where  I  found  neither  lodging  nor  comfort, 
and  did  not  know  what  was  to  become  of  me. 
Meanwhile,  some  lads  took  it  into  their  heads 
to  gape  at  me  and  crowd  round  me  to  such 
a  degree  that  they  irritated  me,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  pick  up  stones  to  fling  at  them. 
And  I  must  have  hurt  one  of  them,  though 
I  don't  know  where,  for  I  didn't  notice ;  and 
I  was  arrested  and  kept  in  jail  a  longish  month 
till  he  was  cured,  when  they  released  me  with 
a  little  money  in  hand  after  expenses  were 
paid.  I  at  once  left  and  went  to  Estella  in 
Navarre,  which  is,  I  should  think,  twenty 
leagues  away.  I  reached  Estella  and  got  a 
place  as  page  to  Don  Carlos  de  Arellano,  of 
the  Order  of  Santiago,  in  whose  house  and 
service  I  spent  two  years,  well  treated  and 
clothed.  And  then,  from  sheer  whim,  I  gave 
up  this  comfort  and  went  to  my  native  place, 
San  Sebastian,  ten  leagues  off;  and  there  I 
stayed,  a  spruce  fop,  unrecognised  by  anybody. 

7 


And  one  day  I  was  hearing  Mass  at  my  con- 
vent when  my  mother  was  present,  and  I 
noticed  that  she  looked  at  me  and  did  not 
know  me  ;  and,  Mass  being  over,  some  nuns 
asked  me  into  the  choir,  but  I  pretended  not 
to  understand,  paid  them  many  compliments, 
and  slipped  away.  This  was  at  the  beginning 
of  1603.  Thence  I  went  to  the  port  of 
Pasage,  which  is  a  league  away.  There  I 
fell  in  with  Captain  Miguel  de  Berroiz,  who 
was  about  to  sail  with  his  ship  for  Seville. 
I  begged  him  to  take  me,  and  made  a  bargain 
with  him  for  forty  reales.  And  I  embarked, 
and  we  sailed  and  very  shortly  reached  San 
Lucar. 

On  landing  at  San  Liicar  I  went  off  to 
Seville,  and,  though  it  tempted  me  to  stay, 
I  remained  there  only  two  days,  and  then 
returned  to  San  Liicar.  There  I  met  Captain 
Miguel  de  Echazarreta,  who  was  from  my 
part  of  the  country  and  commanded  a  tender 
to  the  galleons  under  General  Don  Luis 
Fernandez  de  Cordova,  forming  part  of  the 
armada  with  which  Don  Luis  Fajardo  sailed 
for  Punta  de  Araya  in  1603.  I  enlisted  as 
8 


sked  me  into  the  cltoi 


boy  on  a  galleon  commanded  by  my  uncle, 
my  mother's  first  cousin,  Captain  Esteban 
Eguino,  who  is  now  living  at  San  Sebastian  ; 
and  I  went  aboard,  and  we  sailed  from  San 
Lucar  on  Maundy  Thursday,  1603. 


CHAPTER    II.      SHE   LEAVES    SAN    LUCAR 

FOR        PUNTA        DE       ARAYA,       CARTAGENA, 
NOMBRE     DE     DlOS,     AND     PANAMA. 


II 


BEING  new  to  the  work,  I  underwent 
some  hardships  on  the  voyage.  Though 
he  did  not  know  me,  my  uncle  took  a  fancy  to 
me  and  made  much  of  me  on  learning  where 
I  was  from  and  the  fictitious  names  of  my 
parents  that  I  gave  him.  He  did  not  know  who 
I  was,  and  I  found  in  him  a  protector.  On 
reaching  Punta  de  Araya  we  found  a  hostile 
force  entrenched  on  shore  there,  and  our 

c 

armada  drove  it  away.  At  last  we  came  to 
Cartagena,  in  the  Indies,  and  there  we  re- 
mained a  week.  There  I  had  my  name  taken 
off  the  muster  as  ship's  boy  and  entered  the 
service  of  the  said  Captain  Eguino,  my  uncle. 
Thence  we  went  on  to  Nombre  de  Dios,  and 
were  there  nine  days.  There  were  many  deaths 
during  that  time,  wherefore  we  departed  very 
hastily. 

When  the  silver  was  stowed  on  board,  and 
everything  was  shipshape  to  return  to  Spain, 
I  played  a  rare  trick  on  my  uncle  by  pouching 
five  hundred  pesos  l  belonging  to  him.  At  ten 
at  night,  whilst  he  was  asleep,  I  went  up  and 
told  the  sentries  that  the  captain  was  sending 
me  ashore  on  business,  and,  as  they  knew  me, 

12 


'  I  jumped  on  shore.' 


they  readily  let  me  pass.  I  jumped  on  shore, 
and  they  never  set  eyes  on  me  again.  An 
hour  later  the  parting  gun  boomed,  and,  weigh- 
ing anchor,  they  were  ready  to  sail. 

After  the  armada  had  gone,  I  took  service 
with  Captain  Juan  de  Ibarra,  Controller  of 
the  Treasury  at  Panama,  who  is  still  alive. 
Within  four  or  six  days  we  left  for  Panama, 
where  he  resided.  There  I  stayed  with  him 
for  about  three  months.  He  did  not  treat 
me  well,  for  he  was  a  hunks,  and  I  had  to 
spend  all  the  money  that  I  had  taken  from  my 
uncle,  till  at  last  I  had  not  a  stiver  left ;  so  I 
was  obliged  to  leave  and  try  to  better  myself 
elsewhere.  While  looking  round  rne  I  there 
came  across  Juan  de  Urquiza,  a  merchant  of 
Trujillo,  to  whom  I  engaged  myself;  and  with 
him  I  got  on  very  well,  and  we  remained  there 
at  Panamd  for  three  months. 


CHAPTER  III.        WITH      HER      MASTER 

URQUIZA,  A    MERCHANT     OF     TRUJILLO, 

SHE   GOES  FROM    PANAMA   TO    THE    PORT 

OF  PAITA,  AND  THENCE  TO  THE   CITY   OF 
SANA. 


I  LEFT  Panamd  with  my  master,  Juan  de 
Urquiza,  on  a  frigate  bound  for  the  port  of 
Paita,  where  he  had  a  large  cargo.  On  reaching 
the  port  of  Manta  we  were  caught  in  such  a 
hurricane  that  we  heeled  over  :  those  of  us  who 
could  swim  —  myself,  my  master,  and  some 
others — got  to  shore,  and  the  rest  perished.  At 
the  said  port  of  Manta  we  embarked  again  on 
one  of  the  King's  galleons  which  we  met  there, 
and  this  cost  a  heap  of  money.  We  sailed 
thence  and  came  to  the  said  port  of  Paita,  and 
there,  as  he  expected,  my  master  found  all  his 
goods  on  a  vessel  belonging  to  Captain  Alonso 
Cerrato ;  and,  after  instructing  me  to  unload 
them  in  the  order  of  their  numbers  and  to 
forward  them  to  him  in  the  same  order,  he 
went  away.  I  immediately  set  to  work  as 
directed ;  I  unshipped  the  goods  in  numerical 
order,  forwarding  them  in  this  order  to  my 
master  at  Sana,  a  city  some  sixty  leagues 
distant  from  Paita ;  and,  at  the  end  of  it,  I 
set  out  from  Paita  with  the  last  packages,  and 
arrived  at  Sana.  When  I  reached  there  my 
master  received  me  with  great  kindness,  show- 
ing himself  pleased  with  the  way  I  had  done 
16 


my  work.  He  at  once  ordered  two  handsome 
suits  for  me— one  black,  and  the  other  of  a 
brighter  colour — and  treated  me  well  in  every 
way.  He  placed  me  in  charge  of  one  of  his 
shops,  and — what  with  goods  and  cash — trusted 
me  with  property  amounting  to  over  a  hundred 
and  thirty  thousand  pesos  ;  and  he  wrote  out 
in  a  ledger  the  price  I  was  to  charge  for  each 
article.  He  left  me  two  slaves  as  attendants, 
a  negress  as  cook,  and  allowed  me  three  pesos 
for  daily  expenses.  And  when  this  was  settled, 
he  packed  up  the  rest  of  his  property  and  set 
off  with  it  for  Trujillo,  which  is  at  a  distance 
of  thirty-two  leagues. 

He  also  wrote  out  for  me  in  the  said  ledger 
a  list  of  persons  whom  he  thought  solvent 
and  trustworthy,  and  to  whom  I  could  give 
credit  for  such  goods  as  they  might  order  and 
wish  to  take  away  with  them,  but  with  a 
detailed  account  and  each  item  posted 
in  the  ledger.  And  in  reference  to  this,  he 
gave  me  special  instructions  concerning  the 
Senora  Dona  Beatriz  de  Cardenas,  a  person 
for  whom  he  had  the  highest  regard  and 
respect.  Then  he  went  off  to  Trujillo.  I 

E  17 


stayed  on  at  Sana  in  my  shop,  selling 
according  to  the  rule  laid  down  for  me ;  I 
took  ready  money,  entering  it  in  the  ledger, 
noting  day,  month,  and  year,  quality,  ells, 
names  of  purchasers  and  price  ;  and  I  did  the 
same  when  giving  credit.  The  Sefiora  Dona 
Beatriz  de  Cardenas  began  buying  stuffs.  She 
went  on,  and  bought  so  lavishly  that  I  began 
to  have  doubts  about  her ;  and,  without  giving 
her  a  hint  of  it,  I  wrote  a  full  account  of  the 
matter  to  my  master  at  Trujillo.  He  answered 
that  everything  was  as  it  should  be,  and  that 
in  the  special  case  of  this  lady  I  might  let 
her  have  the  whole  shop  if  she  asked  for  it. 
Whereupon,  keeping  the  letter  to  myself,  I 
went  on  as  before. 

Who  could  have  imagined  that  I  should 
enjoy  this  calm  for  so  short  a  while,  and  that 
soon  afterwards  I  should  have  to  undergo  sore 
trials  ?  One  Sunday  l  I  was  at  the  theatre  in 
the  seat  that  I  had  paid  for,  when  a  fellow 
called  Reyes  came  in,  placing  another  seat  so 
directly  in  front  of  mine,  and  so  close  to  it, 
that  he  cut  off  my  view.  I  begged  him  to 
move  a  little,;  he  answered  insolently,  and  I 
18 


retorted  in  the  same  vein.  Then  he  told  me  to 
clear  out,  or  he  would  slash  my  face  for  me.2 
Having  nothing  on  me  in  the  way  of  arms  but 
a  dagger,  I  left  the  place  in  dudgeon.  Some 
friends,  hearing  of  what  had  happened,  fol- 
lowed me  and  quieted  me.  On  Monday  morn- 
ing, while  I  was  in  my  shop  selling  goods, 
Reyes  passed  up  and  down  in  front  of  the 
door.  I  noticed  it,  closed  my  shop,  seized  a 
knife,  and  going  to  the  barber's,  got  him  to 
grind  it  and  give  it  a  toothed  edge  like  a  saw. 
I  girt  on  my  rapier  3 — the  first  I  ever  wore — and 
saw  Reyes  sauntering  in  front  of  the  church 
with  another  man.  I  went  up  to  him  from 
behind  and  said,  "Ah,  Sefior  Reyes!"  He 
turned  round  and  said,  "  What  do  you  want 
with  me?"  I  replied,  "I'll  show  you  whose 
face  is  going  to  be  slashed  ! "  And  with  my 
knife  I  gave  him  a  slash  which  it  took  ten 
stitches  to  sew  up  again.  He  raised  both  hands 
to  his  wound,  his  friend  drew  his  rapier  and 
made  at  me,  and  I  made  at  him  with  mine. 
We  cut  and  thrust ;  I  ran  my  point  deep  into 
his  left  side,  and  he  fell.  I  at  once  fled  into 
the  church  close  by.  The  Corregidor,  Don 


Mendo  de  Quinones,  of  the  Order  of  Alcantara, 
came  in  immediately,  dragged  me  out,  took 
me  to  jail  (the  first  jail  I  was  in),4  clapped  me 
in  irons  and  set  me  in  the  stocks. 

I  duly  informed  my  master,  Juan  de 
Urquiza,  who  was  at  Trujillo,  thirty-two 
leagues  from  Sana.  He  came  at  once,  spoke 
to  the  Corregidor,  and  by  other  effective 
means  secured  better  treatment  for  me  in 
jail.  The  case  ran  its  course.  After  three 
months  of  pleas  and  demurrers  on  the  part 
of  the  Lord  Bishop,  I  was  taken  back  to  the 
church  from  which  I  had  been  dragged  out. 
When  things  had  reached  this  point,  my 
master  told  me  that — while  reflecting  how  to 
end  this  quarrel,  avoid  my  being  banished,  and 
free  me  from  the  dread  of  assassination — he 
had  thought  of  a  suitable  plan,  which  was  that 
I  should  marry  Dona  Beatriz  de  Cardenas, 
whose  niece  was  wedded  to  the  fellow  Reyes 
whom  I  had  slashed  in  the  face,  and  that  in 
this  way  everything  would  calm  down.  It 
should  be  said  that  this  Dona  Beatriz  de 
Cardenas  was  my  master's  leman,  and  his 
aim  was  to  keep  both  of  us — me  for  business 
20 


and  her  for  pleasure.  And  it  looked  as  though 
the  pair  of  them  had  agreed  on  this  dodge,  for 
after  I  was  sent  back  to  the  church  I  used  to 
venture  out  by  night  to  this  lady's  house,  and 
she  caressed  me  freely,  and,  shamming  fear 
of  the  police,  begged  me  not  to  return 
to  the  church  at  night,  but  to  stay  where 
I  was ;  and  one  night  she  locked  me  'in, 
vowing  that  I  should  pleasure  her  whether 
Old  Nick  liked  it  or  not,  and  she  clasped  me 
so  tightly  that  I  had  to  use  force  and  slip  off. 
After  this  I  told  my  master  that  such  a  mar- 
riage was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  that 
nothing  on  earth  would  make  me  consent  to  it ; 
but  he  stuck  to  his  plan,  promising  me  moun- 
tains of  gold,  pointing  out  the  beauty  and 
charms  of  the  lady,  what  an  escape  this  would 
be  from  my  serious  difficulties,  and  other  con- 
siderations :  nevertheless,  I  stood  by  what  I 
had  said.  Seeing  this,  my  master  suggested 
that  I  should  go  to  Trujillo  to  carry  on  the 
same  business  on  the  same  terms,  and  I  agreed 
to  that. 


21 


CHAPTER   IV.      SHE   GOES  FROM  SANA  TO 
TRUJILLO — SHE  KILLS  A  MAN. 


I  WE  NT  to  the  city  of  Trujillo,  a  suffragan 
bishopric  of  Lima,  where  my  master 
opened  a  shop  for  me.  I  took  possession  of 
it,  doing  business  as  at  Sana,  posting  sales, 
prices,  and  credits  in  a  ledger  like  the  old 
one.  Two  months  must  have  gone  by  when 
one  morning,  at  about  eight,  as  I  was  in  my 
shop  cashing  a  bill  of  exchange  from  my 
master  for  some  twenty-four  thousand  pesos, 
a  negro  came  in  and  told  me  that  there 
were  three  men  at  the  door  who  seemed  to 
be  carrying  bucklers.  This  set  me  on  my 
guard.  After  obtaining  a  receipt  I  got  rid 
of  my  customer,  and  sent  for  Francisco 
Zerain,  who  came  at  once,  and  he  observed,  as 
he  entered,  that  the  three  men  outside  were 
Reyes,  the  friend  whom  I  knocked  over  at 
Sana  with  a  rapier-thrust,  and  another.  After 
ordering  the  negro  to  close  the  door  we 
went  into  the  street,  and  they  dashed  at  us 
on  the  spot.  We  faced  them,  and  crossed 
blades,  and  before  long,  as  ill-luck  would 
have  it,  I  ran  my  point — where,  I  don't  know 
— into  Reyes's  friend.  He  fell,  and  we  went 
on  fighting  two  to  two,  giving  and  receiving 
wounds  on  both  sides. 
24 


'A  negro  came  in.' 


At  this  moment  up  came  the  Corregidor, 
Don  Ordono  de  Aguirre,  with  two  constables, 
and  arrested  me.  Francisco  Zerain  took  to 
his  heels  and  found  sanctuary.  While  the 
Corregidor  himself  was  taking  me  to  jail  (for 
the  constables  were  busy  with  the  others),  he 
asked  me  who  I  was  and  where  I  came  from, 
and,  hearing  that  I  was  a  Biscay  an,  he  told 
me  in  Basque  that,  as  we  passed  the  cathedral, 
I  had  better  unfasten  the  belt  by  which  he 
gripped  and  held  me.  I  needed  no  second 
hint,  and  did  so.  I  rushed  into  the  cathedral, 
while  he  stood  there  bawling.  Being  safe 
inside,  I  informed  my  master,  who  was  at 
Sana.  He  arrived  very  soon  and  tried  to 
settle  my  case,  but  this  was  impossible  because, 
in  addition  to  the  manslaughter,  I  don't  know 
what  other  charges  they  didn't  rake  up. 
Accordingly  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  get 
away  to  Lima.  I  handed  in  my  accounts, 
he  had  two  suits  made  for  me,  gave  me  two 
thousand  six  hundred  pesos  and  a  letter  of 
introduction,  and  I  set  out. 


CHAPTER   V.     SHE   GOES   FROM   TRUJILLO 
TO  LIMA. 


HAVING  left  Trujillo  and  travelled  more 
than  eighty  leagues,  I  reached  the 
city  of  Lima,  the  capital  of  the  wealthy 
kingdom  of  Peru,  which  includes  a  hundred 
and  two  cities  inhabited  by  Spaniards  (not 
to  mention  numerous  townships),  twenty-eight 
bishoprics  and  archbishoprics,  one  hundred  and 

thirty-six    corregidors,    the    High    Courts    of 

% 

Valladolid,  Granada,  Las  Charcas,  Quito, 
Chile,  and  La  Paz.  It  has  an  archbishop,  a 
cathedral  like  that  at  Seville  (but  not  so  large), 
five  benefices,  ten  canons,  six  prebends,  and 
six  half-prebends,  a  hermitage,  a  Tribunal  of 
the  Inquisition  (there  is  another  at  Cartagena), 
a  university,  a  viceroy,  a  Supreme  Court  which 
rules  over  the  rest  of  Peru,  and  other  glories. 
I  handed  my  letter  to  Diego  de  Solarte,  a  very 
rich  merchant  (now  Consul  Mayor  of  Lima),  to 
whom  my  master,  Juan  de  Urquiza,  had  com- 
mended me.  With  great  condescension  and 
kindness  he  straightway  received  me  into  his 
own  house,  and  within  a  few  days  installed  me 
in  his  shop  with  a  fixed  salary  of  over  six 
hundred  pesos  a  year ;  and  there  I  worked 
much  to  his  satisfaction  and  content.  At  the 
28 


end  of  nine  months  he  bade  me  go  and  earn 
my  living  elsewhere  ;  and  the  reason  of  this 
was  that  he  had  at  home  with  him  two  un- 
married sisters  of  his  wife's,  with  whom — with 
one  especially  whom  I  preferred — I  used  to 
sport  and  frolic.  And  one  day,  when  I  was 
in  the  parlour,  combing  my  hair,  lolling  my 
head  in  her  lap,  and  tickling  her  ankles,  he 
came  by  chance  to  a  grating  through  which 
he  saw  us,  and  he  heard  her  telling  me  that  I 
ought  to  go  to  Potosi  and  make  a  fortune,  and 
then  we  could  get  married.  He  withdrew, 
called  me  shortly  afterwards,  asked  for  and 
checked  my  accounts,  and  discharged  me, 
and  I  departed. 

There  was  I  out  of  employment,  and  with 
no  friend  to  help  me.  Six  companies  were 
then  being  raised  for  Chile ;  I  enlisted  in  one 
of  them  as  a  soldier,  and  at  once  received 
two  hundred  and  eighty  pesos  as  pay.  My 
master  heard  of  this,  and  was  much  concerned, 
for  it  seems  that  he  never  meant  to  bring  me 
to  such  a  pass.  He  offered  to  intercede  with 
the  officers  to  have  me  struck  off  the  muster- 
roll,  and  to  pay  back  the  money  which  I  had 

29 


received.  I  would  not  allow  it,  saying  that 
my  taste  was  all  for  roving  and  seeing  the 
world.  And  so,  as  a  private  in  Captain 
Gonzalo  Rodriguez's  company,  I  left  Lima 
with  a  force  of  one  thousand  six  hundred 
men,  of  which  Diego  Brabo  de  Sarabia  was 
Camp-master,1  for  the  city  of  Concepcion, 
which  is  five  hundred  and  forty  leagues  distant 
from  Lima.  »• 


3° 


CHAPTER  VI.  SHE  REACHES  CONCEPCION, 
IN  CHILE — MEETS  HER  BROTHER  THERE 
— GOES  TO  PAICAB! — Is  PRESENT  AT 
THE  BATTLE  OF  VALDIVIA — OBTAINS  AN 
ENSIGNCY  —  RETIRES  TO  NACIMIENTO  — 
GOES  TO  THE  VALLEY  OF  PUREN,  AND 
RETURNS  TO  CONCEPCION,  WHERE  SHE 
KILLS  TWO  MEN,  BESIDES  HER  OWN 
BROTHER. 


AFTER  a  voyage  of  twenty  days  we  came 
to  the  port  of  Concepcion,  a  fair-sized 
city  bearing  the  title  of  "noble  "  and  "loyal  "  ; 
it  has  a  bishop.  We  were  heartily  wel- 
comed, as  the  force  in  Chile  was  small. 
There  soon  came  an  order  from  the  Governor, 
Alonso  de  Ribera,  to  disembark ;  it  was 
brought  by  his  secretary,  Captain  Miguel 
de  Erauso.  As  soon  as  I  h^ard  his  name 
I  rejoiced  and  was  sure  that  he  was  my 
brother ;  for  though  I  didn't  know  him,  and 
had  never  seen  him  (as  he  left  San 
Sebastian  for  these  parts  when  I  was  two), 
I  had  heard  of  him,  though  not  of  his  where- 
abouts. He  took  the  muster-roll  of  troops  and 
went  down  the  line,  asking  each  man  his  name 
and  birthplace  ;  and  when  he  came  to  me,  on 
hearing  my  name  and  birthplace  he  dropped 
his  pen,  embraced  me,  and  began  inquiring 
about  his  father  and  mother  and  sisters,  and 
his  little  sister  Catalina,  the  nun ;  and  I 
answered  as  best  I  could  without  revealing 
myself  and  without  his  suspecting  anything. 
He  went  on  with  the  muster-roll,  and,  after 
he  had  finished,  took  me  to  dine  at  his 
32 


house,  and  I  sat  down  at  table.  He  told 
me  that  Paicabi,  the  centre  to  which  I  was 
to  go,  was  a  vile  hole  for  soldiers,  and  that 
he  would  ask  the  Governor  to  change  my 
garrison.  After  dinner  he  went  to  the 
Governor's,  taking  me  with  him.  He  re- 
ported the  arrival  of  the  force,  and  begged 
as  a  favour  to  be  allowed  to  transfer  to  his 
company  a  youngster  who  had  just  come 
from  his  native  province,  as  he  had  met 
with  no  other  since  he  left  the  country. 
The  Governor  ordered  me  to  be  brought  in, 
and,  after  looking  at  me,  said  (I  don't  know 
why)  that  he  could  not  transfer  me.  My 
brother  withdrew,  disappointed.  The  Gover- 
nor sent  for  him  a  little  later  and  told  him 
that  he  might  do  what  he  liked. 

So,  when  the  companies  marched  away,  I 
stayed  behind  as  my  brother's  soldier,  dining 
at  his  table  for  nearly  three  years  without 
awakening  his  suspicions.  Sometimes  I  went 
with  him  to  his  mistress's  house,  and  some- 
times without  him.  He  got  wind  of  it,  flew 
into  a  heat,  and  told  me  to  keep  away  from 
the  place.  He  spied  on  me  and  caught  me 

F  33 


there  once  more,  waited  for  me,  belaboured 
me  with  his  sword-belt  as  I  came  out,  and 
hurt  my  hand.  I  was  obliged  to  defend 
myself,  and  Captain  Don  Francisco  de  Aillon, 
who  came  up  on  hearing  the  scuffle,  made 
peace  between  us.  However,  I  had  to  take 
refuge  in  St.  Francis's  Church  for  fear  of 
the  Governor,  who  was  a  martinet — so  much 
so  in  this  instance  that,  in*  spite  of  my 
brother's  intercession,  he  determined  to  banish 
me  to  Paicabi.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  go  to  the  port  of  Paicabi,  where  I 
remained  three  years. 

After  leading  a  rollicking  life  I  had  to 
pack  off  to  Paicabi  and  suffer  hardships  for 
three  years.  We  were  always  under  arms, 
because  of  the  great  invasion  of  Indians 
there.  At  last  the  Governor,  Alonso  de 
Sarabia,  arrived  with  all  the  Chilean  com- 
panies, the  rest  of  us  joined  him,  and,  five 
thousand  in  all,  we  encamped  with  great 
discomfort  on  the  plains  of  Valdivia  in  the 
open  country.  The  Indians  captured  and 
ravaged  the  said  Valdivia.  We  marched  out 
to  meet  them,  and  fought  them  three  or 
34 


four  times,  always  defeating  them  and 
slaughtering  them ;  but  in  the  last  engage- 
ment their  reinforcements  came  up,  things 
took  a  bad  turn  for  us,  and  they  killed  many 
of  our  men  and  some  captains  and  my 
ensign,  and  they  captured  our  flag.  Seeing 
it  carried  off,  I  and  two  mounted  men 
galloped  after  it  into  the  midst  of  the 
throng,  trampling,  killing,  and  receiving  hard 
knocks.  One  of  the  three  soon  fell  dead  ; 
the  two  of  us  pressed  on  and  reached  the 
flag,  when  my  comrade  was  laid  low  by  a 
lance-thrust ;  I  received  a  nasty  wound  in 
the  leg,  killed  a  cacique  who  was  carrying 
the  standard,  recaptured  it  from  him,  and  set 
spurs  to  my  horse,  trampling,  killing,  and 
wounding  no  end,  but  was  badly  wounded 
myself,  pierced  by  three  arrows,  and  with  a 
lance-wound  in  the  left  shoulder,  which  gave 
me  great  pain.  At  last  I  reached  a  group 
of  soldiers,  and  fell  from  my  horse.  Some 
hastened  to  help  me,  among  them  my 
brother,  whom  I  had  not  seen,  and  he  was 
a  comfort  to  me.  They  cured  me,  and  we 
stayed  in  camp  nine  months.  At  the  end 

35 


of  that  time  my  brother  got  the  Governor 
to  give  me  the  flag  that  I  had  captured, 
and  I  became  ensign  in  Alonso  de  Moreno's 
company,  which  was  given  soon  afterwards 
to  Gonzalo  Rodriguez,  the  first  captain  I 
had  served  under,  and  I  rejoiced  exceed- 
ingly. 

I  was  an  ensign  for  five  years,  was  pre- 
sent at  the  battle  of  Pure*n,  where  my  said 
captain  died,  and  the  company  was  under 
my  command  for  something  like  six  months, 
during  which  I  had  several  encounters  with 
the  enemy,  and  received  several  arrow- 
wounds.  In  one  engagement  I  was  pitted 
against  an  Indian  chief,  a  Christian,  called 
Don  Francisco  Quispiguancha,  a  rich  man, 
who  gave  us  no  peace  with  his  constant 
raids.  While  fighting  with  him  I  unhorsed 
him,  he  surrendered  to  me,  and  I  at  once 
had  him  hanged  on  a  tree.  This  angered 
the  Governor,  who  wanted  to  capture  him 
alive,  and  for  this  reason  (it  was  said)  he 
did  not  give  me  the  company ;  he  gave  it 
to  Captain  Casadevante,  placing  me  on 
half-pay,  and  promising  me  the  step  on  the 
36 


first  vacancy.  The  troops  retired  to  their 
respective  garrisons,  and  I  went  to  Naci- 
miento,  which  has  nothing  good  about  it 
but  its  name ;  in  every  other  respect  it  is  a 
living  sepulchre,  where  one  is  always  under 
arms.  I  was  only  there  a  few  days,  for 
the  Camp-master,  Don  Alvaro  Nunez  de 
Pineda,  came  soon  after  by  order  of  the 
Governor,  and  withdrew  from  this  garrison 
and  others  as  many  as  eight  hundred  mounted 
men  for  the  valley  of  Puren,  among  whom 
I  was  numbered  with  other  officers  and 
captains  ;  and  we  marched  there  and  did 
great  havoc  for  six  months,  laying  waste 
and  burning  the  crops.  Then  the  Governor, 
Don  Alonso  de  Ribera,  gave  me  leave  to 
return  to  Concepcion,  and  I  took  up  my 
post  in  Francisco  Navarrete's  company,  and 
there  I  remained. 

I  was  the  sport  of  Fortune,  which  turned 
my  joys  into  disasters.  I  was  living  peace- 
fully at  Concepci6n  when  one  day,  being  at 
the  guard-house,  I  went  with  another  ensign, 
a  friend  of  mine,  to  a  gambling-hell  close  by. 
We  began  to  play ;  the  game  was  in  full 

37 


swing  when  a  dispute  arose,  and,  in  the 
presence  of  many  onlookers,  he  said  that  I 
lied  like  a  wittol.  I  drew  my  rapier  and 
ran  it  into  his  chest.  So  many  people 
pounced  on  me,  and  so  many  came  in  at 
the  noise,  that  I  could  not  move.  There 
was  an  adjutant  in  particular  who  gripped 
me  tight.  The  Chief  Justice,  f  rancisco  de 
Parraga,  came  in,  and  he  also  laid  firm 
hold  of  me,  gave  me  a  shaking,  and  asked 
me  all  manner  of  questions  ;  and  I  said  that 
I  should  make  my  statement  before  the 
Governor.  At  this  point  my  brother  arrived, 
and  told  me  in  Basque  to  make  a  bolt  for 
my  life.  The  Chief  Justice  held  me  fast 
by  the  collar  of  my  doublet,  and,  taking  my 
dagger  in  my  hand,  I  bade  him  let  go. 
He  gave  me  another  shake,  I  stabbed  him 
through  the  cheek ;  he  still  held  on  to  me. 
I  stabbed  him  again,  and  he  loosened  his 
grip.  I  drew  my  rapier,  many  made  a  rush 
at  me,  I  backed  to  the  door ;  there  was  some 
opposition,  I  overcame  it,  got  out,  and  fled 
to  St.  Francis's  Church  close  by  ;  and  there 
I  learned  that  the  ensign  and  Chief  Justice 
38 


were  dead.  The  Governor,  Alonso  Garcfa 
Rem6n,  was  soon  on  the  spot ;  he  surrounded 
the  church  with  soldiers,  and  kept  them 
there  for  six  months.  He  issued  a  proclama- 
tion, promising  a  reward  to  any  one  who 
gave  me  up,  and  forbidding  anybody  to  let 
me  embark  at  any  port.  Notice  was  given  to 
the  garrisons  and  at  the  fortresses,  and  other 
measures  were  taken,  till  time,  which  cures 
everything,  began  to  tone  down  this  severity, 
and  petitions  poured  in  and  the  guard  was 
withdrawn,  and  I  even  had  some  friends  to 
visit  me,  and  at  last  people  began  to  admit 
that  the  provocation  in  the  first  instance  had 
been  extreme  and  that  my  position  had  been 
one  of  imminent  peril. 

At  this  time,  amongst  other  friends,  I 
had  a  visit  one  day  from  my  friend  Don 
Juan  de  Silva,  an  ensign  on  full- pay,  who 
told  me  that  words  had  passed  between  him 
and  Don  Francisco  de  Rojas,  of  the  Order 
of  Santiago,  and  that  he  had  challenged 
him  for  that  night  at  eleven,  each  to  bring 
a  friend,  and  that,  for  this  purpose,  he  could 
depend  on  no  other  friend  but  myself.  I 

39 


hesitated  a  little,  wondering  whether  this 
was  a  ruse  to  arrest  me.  He  observed  it, 
and  said,  "If  you  don't  care  to  risk  it, 
never  mind;  I  shall  go  alone,  for  I'll  trust 
my  defence  to  no  one  else."  I  said,  "  What 
can  you  be  thinking  of  ?  "  and  I  accepted. 

As  the  Angelus  was  ringing  I  left  the 
monastery  and  went  to  his  house.  We 
supped  and  chatted  till  ten,*"  and,  hearing 
the  hour  strike,  we  took  our  rapiers  and 
cloaks  and  went  to  the  appointed  spot. 
The  darkness  was  so  gross  that  we  could 
not  see  our  hands,  and,  noticing  this,  my 
friend  and  I  agreed  that  each  of  us  should 
tie  a  handkerchief  round  one  of  his  arms 
so  as  to  recognise  one  another  at  need. 

The  two  arrived,  and  one,  whom  I  knew 
by  his  voice  to  be  Don  Francisco  de  Rojas, 
said,  "  Don  Juan  de  Silva  ? "  Don  Juan 
replied,  "Here  I  am!"  Both  drew  their 
rapiers  and  engaged,  while  the  other  man 
and  I  stood  still.  They  continued  parrying, 
and  in  a  little  while  I  noticed  that  my 
friend  was  in  pain  from  a  thrust  that  he 
had  received.  I  took  my  stand  beside  him 
40 


'  /  gave  him  a  thrust.' 


at  once,  and  the  other  man  instantly  drew 
up  alongside  Don  Francisco.  We  fought 
in  couples,  and  before  long  Don  Francisco 
and  Don  Juan  fell.  I  and  my  opponent 
kept  on  fighting,  and  I  gave  him  a  thrust, 
as  it  appeared  afterwards,  under  the  left 
nipple,  piercing  (as  I  could  feel)  a  double 
jerkin,  and  he  fell.  "  Ah,  traitor,"  he  said, 
"  thou  hast  killed  me ! "  I  fancied  that  I 
recognised  the  voice  of  the  man  whom  I 
could  not  see.  I  asked  him  who  he  was. 
He  said,  "  Captain  Miguel  de  Erauso."  I 
stood  there  thunderstruck.  He  cried  out 
loudly  for  a  confessor,  and  so  did  the  others. 
I  ran  to  St.  Francis's,  and  sent  two  monks, 
who  heard  the  confessions  of  all  of  them. 
The  two  died  immediately ;  my  brother  was 
carried  to  the  house  of  the  Governor,  whose 
war-secretary  he  was.  Doctor  and  surgeon 
hastened  to  dress  his  wound,  and  did  all 
they  could.  Shortly  afterwards  his  deposi- 
tion was  taken,  and  they  asked  him  the 
name  of  the  man  who  wounded  him.  He 
entreated  them  to  give  him  a  little  wine, 
but  Doctor  Robledo  would  not  let  him 


have  it,  saying  that  it  was  not  good  for 
him.  He  insisted  ;  the  doctor  refused.  He 
said,  "  You  are  more  cruel  to  me  than 
Ensign  Diaz  was,"  and  he  died  a  little  later. 
The  Governor  hastened  to  surround  the 
monastery,  and  tried  to  break  in  with  his 
guard.  The  monks  and  their  Provincial, 
Fray  Francisco  de  Otalora,  who  now  lives 
at  Lima,  resisted.  The  dispute  over  this  grew 
so  violent  that  some  monks  went  so  far  as 
to  tell  him  plainly  that  he  had  better  mind, 
for,  if  he  broke  in,  he  would  never  get  out 
again,  whereon  he  cooled  down  and  with- 
drew, leaving  the  guard  there.  The  said 
Captain  Miguel  de  Erauso  being  dead,  he 
was  buried  in  the  said  monastery  of  St. 
Francis.  I  witnessed  it  from  the  choir — 
God  knows  with  what  grief!  I  remained 
there  eight  months,  and  meanwhile  proceed- 
ings were  taken  for  contumacy,  as  the  affair 
did  not  allow  of  my  coming  forward.  With 
the  help  of  Don  Juan  Ponce  de  Leon,  who 
gave  me  a  horse,  arms,  and  money,  I  found 
an  opportunity,  and  set  out  for  Valdivia 
and  Tucuman. 
42 


CHAPTER    VII.       SHE    GOES    FROM    CON- 

CEPCI6N     TO     TUCUMAN. 


43 


I  BEGAN  by  riding  along  the  sea-coast, 
suffering  great  hardships,  including  lack 
of  water,  for  I  found  none  in  the  whole  dis- 
trict. On  the  road  I  met  two  other  soldiers 
who  had  deserted,  and  we  all  three  journeyed 
together,  resolved  to  die  rather  than  let  our- 
selves be  captured.  We  had  our  horses, 
rapiers,  firearms,  and  the  providence  of  God 
on  high.  We  followed  the  ascending  ridge  of 
the  mountain  range  for  over  thirty  leagues, 
and  in  all  that  distance — and  in  three  hundred 
more  leagues  that  we  travelled  —  we  never 
found  a  mouthful  of  bread,  and  seldom  water. 
We  came  across  some  herbs,  small  game,  and 
stray  roots  which  kept  life  in  us,  and  now  and 
then  a  stray  Indian,  who  fled  from  us.  We 
had  to  kill  one  of  our  horses  to  make  dried 
meat,  but  found  he  was  only  skin  and  bone  ; 
and  thus,  plodding  slowly  on,  we  killed  the 
other  two,  and  crawled  along,  unable  to  stand. 
We  reached  a  district  so  cold  that  we  were 
frozen.  We  sighted  two  men  leaning  against 
a  rock,  and  we  rejoiced  ;  we  advanced,  hailing 
them,  and  asking  what  they  were  doing  there  : 
they  made  no  reply.  We  came  to  where  they 
44 


'  ll>'e  all  three  journeyed  together." 


were  ;  and  they  were  dead,  frozen,  their 
mouths  open,  as  though  laughing  ;  and  this 
filled  us  with  terror. 

We  pushed  forward,  and  on  the  third  night 
drew  up  close  to  a  rock.  One  of  us  could  hold 
out  no  longer,  and  died.  The  two  of  us  kept  on, 
and  next  day,  at  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  my 
companion  could  go  no  further,  and  dropped 
down  sobbing,  and  died.  I  found  eight  pesos  in 
his  pocket,  and  went  blindly  on  my  way,  carry- 
ing my  harquebus  and  the  slab  of  dried  meat 
that  was  over,  and  expecting  the  same  end  as 
my  comrades.  Weary,  shoeless,  my  feet  raw, 
my  woeful  state  may  be  imagined  !  I  propped 
myself  up  against  a  tree,  and  (for  the  first 
time,  I  think)  wept.  I  said  the  rosary,  com- 
mending myself  to  the  Most  Blessed  Virgin 
and  to  the  glorious  St.  Joseph,  her  Spouse.  I 
rested  a  little,  and  rising  again,  set  out  on  the 
march  ;  and  it  seems  that  I  must  have  left  the 
kingdom  of  Chile  behind  and  reached  that  of 
Tucuman,  as  I  observed  the  change  of  tem- 
perature. 

I  tramped  on,  and  next  morning,  while  lying 
down,  exhausted  with  fatigue  and  hunger,  I 

45 


saw  two  mounted  men  coming  towards  me. 
I  could  not  tell  whether  to  lament  or  rejoice, 
not  knowing  whether  they  were  savages  or 
friendlies.  I  loaded  my  harquebus,  but  could 
not  lift  it.  They  rode  up,  and  asked  what 
brought  me  to  that  lonely  spot.  I  perceived 
that  they  were  Christians,  and  saw  the 
heavens  open.  I  told  them  I  had  lost  my 
way  and  knew  not  where  I  was,  that  I  was 
worn  out  and  dying  of  hunger,  and  too  weak 
to  rise.  They  were  grieved  at  the  sight  of 
me,  dismounted,  gave  me  to  eat  of  what  they 
had,  lifted  me  on  to  a  horse,  and  led  me  to 
a  farm  three  leagues  away,  where  they  said 
their  mistress  lived,  and  we  arrived  there  at 
about  five  in  the  afternoon. 

The  lady  was  a  half-breed,  the  daughter  of 
a  Spaniard  and  an  Indian  woman.  She  was 
a  widow,  a  good-natured  soul,  who  seeing  me 
and  hearing  of  my  calamity  and  misery,  took 
pity  on  me  and  received  me  kindly.  She  com- 
passionately had  me  placed  in  a  comfortable 
bed,  gave  me  a  good  supper,  and  let  me  rest 
and  sleep  ;  and  this  set  me  up  again.  Next 
morning  she  gave  me  a  good  breakfast,  and, 
46 


seeing  my  destitution,  gave  me  a  neat  cloth 
suit  and  continued  treating  me  very  well  and 
entertaining  me  handsomely.  She  was  well- 
to-do,  and  had  vast  herds  and  flocks ;  and  as, 
apparently,  few  Spaniards  ever  pass  that  way, 
it  seems  that  she  cast  her  eye  on  me  for  her 
daughter. 

After  I  had  been  there  a  week  the  kind- 
hearted  woman  told  me  that  I  might  stay  on 
to  manage  her  household.  I  was  most  grate- 
ful for  the  kindness  she  showed  me  in  my 
forlorn  condition,  and  promised  to  serve  her 
as  best  I  could.  A  few  days  later  she  gave 
me  to  understand  that  she  would  be  willing  for 
me  to  marry  a  daughter  of  hers  who  lived  there 
with  her,  and  who  was  very  black  and  as  ugly 
as  the  devil — the  very  opposite  of  my  taste, 
which  has  always  been  for  pretty  faces.  I 
vowed  myself  enchanted  at  a  condescension 
so  undeserved,  and  fell  at  her  feet,  declaring 
that  she  might  command  me  as  a  creature  of 
hers  snatched  from  destruction.  I  continued 
to  serve  her  to  the  best  of  my  powers.  She 
dressed  me  out  like  a  beau,  and  confidingly 
entrusted  me  with  her  house  and  belongings. 

47 


Two  months  later  we  moved  to  Tucuman  to 
celebrate  the  marriage,  and  there  I  remained 
another  two  months,  postponing  the  ceremony 
on  diverse  pretexts  till  I  came  to  the  end  of 
them,  when,  taking  a  mule,  I  departed,  and 
they  have  never  seen  me  since. 

Another  experience  of  the  same  sort  befell 
me  at  this  time  in  Tucuman.  During  the  two 
months  I  spent  there  befooling  *my  Indian  I 
chanced  to  strike  up  a  friendship  with  the 
Bishop's  secretary,  who  made  much  of  me,  and 
took  me  several  times  to  his  house,  where  we 
gambled  ;  and  here  I  made  acquaintance  with 
Don  Antonio  de  Cervantes,  canon  of  the 
cathedral  there,  and  Vicar-General  of  the 
Bishop.  He  likewise  took  a  fancy  to  me, 
courted  me,  flattered  me,  invited  me  to  dinner 
several  times,  and  finally  managed  to  unbosom 
himself,  saying  that  he  had  a  niece  at  home — 
a  girl  of  my  age,  of  most  striking  attractions, 
and  with  a  good  dowry — and  that,  as  I  had 
made  a  favourable  impression  on  her,  he  had 
determined  to  marry  her  to  me.  I  avowed 
myself  to  be  most  grateful  for  his  kindness  and 
gracious  intentions.  I  saw  the  wench  and  liked 
48 


the  look  of  her,  and  she  sent  me  a  suit  of  fine 
velvet,  twelve  shirts,  six  pairs  of  breeches  of 
Rouen  cloth,  some  Dutch  linen  collars,  a  dozen 
handkerchiefs,  and  two  hundred  pesos  in  a 
bowl  :  this  was  a  gift,  an  act  of  courtesy, 
without  prejudice  to  the  dowry.  I  received 
it  very  thankfully,  and  wrote  the  best  acknow- 
ledgement I  could,  saying  that  I  looked  for- 
ward to  kissing  her  hand  and  placing  myself  at 
her  feet.  I  hid  as  much  as  I  could  from  the 
Indian,  and,  for  the  rest,  I  gave  her  to  under- 
stand that  it  was  in  honour  of  my  marriage 
with  her  daughter  whom  that  gentleman  knew 
all  about,  and  (inasmuch  as  I  was  so  well 
inclined  to  her)  greatly  esteemed.  The  affair 
had  got  to  this  point  when  I  doubled  the  Cape 
and  vanished :  and  I  have  never  heard  what 
became  of  the  negress  and  the  Vicaress- 
General. 


49 


CHAPTER    VIII.      SHE  GOES  FROM  Tucu- 

MAN    TO    POTOSI. 


AFTER  leaving  Tucuman  as  I  have 
described,  I  made  for  Potosi,  a  distance 
of  some  five  hundred  and  fifty  leagues,  which 
it  took  me  over  three  months  to  cover,  riding 
through  a  cold  district,  mostly  desert.  I  had  not 
got  far  when,  to  my  joy,  I  fell  in  with  a  soldier 
who  was  going  the  same  way,  and  we  travelled 
together.  A  little  further  on  three  men,  wearing 
caps  and  armed  with  muskets,  bounced  out  of 
some  roadside  huts,  demanding  all  we  had.  We 
could  not  get  rid  of  them,  nor  persuade  them 
that  we  had  nothing  to  give  ;  we  were  obliged 
to  dismount  and  face  them.  Shots  were  ex- 
changed, they  missed  us,  two  of  them  fell,  and  the 
other  fled.  We  mounted  again  and  jogged  on. 
At  last,  after  more  than  three  months  of 
riding  and  constant  anxiety,  we  reached  Potosi, 
where  we  knew  nobody,  and  each  of  us  went 
off  on  his  own  account  to  look  for  a  place.  I 
met  Don  Juan  L6pez  de  Arguijo,  veinticuatro  l 
of  the  city  of  La  Plata,  and  was  engaged  by 
him  as  camarero  (which  is  much  the  same  as 
majordomo)  with  a  fixed  salary  of  nine 
hundred  pesos  a  year ;  and  he  put  me  in 
charge  of  twelve  thousand  native  sheep  of 
53 


4  Shots  were  exchanged,  they  missed  us, 
two  of  them/eil." 


burden 2  and  eighty  Indians,  and  with  these 
I  set  out  for  Las  Charcas,  where  my  master 
also  went.  We  had  not  been  there  long  when 
my  master  had  difficulties  and  disputes  with 
certain  men,  and  these  differences  ended  in 
quarrels,  imprisonment,  and  embargoes,  which 
caused  me  to  take  my  leave  and  go  back  again. 
Shortly  after  my  return  to  Potosi,  the  mutiny 
of  Don  Alonso  Ibafiez  took  place,  while  the  post 
of  Corregidor  was  held  by  Don  Rafael  Ortiz, 
of  the  Order  of  St.  John.  He  got  together  a 
corps  against  the  mutineers,  who  numbered 
over  a  hundred.  I  was  a  member  of  it, 
and,  marching  out  one  night,  we  met  them 
in  St.  Dominic's  Street.  The  Corregidor 
challenged  them  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Who 
goes  there  ? "  They  made  no  reply  and  re- 
treated. He  challenged  them  again,  and  some 
of  them  shouted,  "  Liberty ! "  The  Corregidor 
and  many  who  were  with  him  called  out, 
"  Long  live  the  King ! "  And  he  advanced 
towards  them  while  we  backed  him  up  with 
cuts  and  shots.  They  defended  themselves  in 
like  fashion,  and,  after  driving  them  into  a 
street,  we  charged  them  in  the  rear  from  the 

53 


other  end  of  it  with  such  effect  that  they  sur- 
rendered. Of  those  who  got  away  we  after- 
wards captured  thirty-six,  among  them  Ibafiez. 
We  counted  seven  of  their  dead  and  two  of 
ours ;  there  were  many  wounded  on  both  sides. 
Some  of  the  prisoners  were  tortured,  and  con- 
fessed to  planning  a  general  rising  in  the  city 
for  that  night.  Three  companies  of  men  from 
Biscay  and  the  mountain  were  raised  as  a  city 
guard ;  and  a  fortnight  later  all  the  mutineers 
were  hanged,  and  the  city  was  at  peace. 

After  this — either  for  some  exploit  which  I 
may  have  done  then,  or  perhaps  for  some- 
thing that  I  had  done  previously — I  was 
appointed  to  the  post  of  serjeant-major,  which 
I  held  for  two  years.  While  I  was  serving 
at  Potosi,  the  Governor,  Don  Pedro  de  Legui, 
of  the  Order  of  Santiago,  ordered  troops  to 
be  raised  for  Los  Chunchos  and  El  Dorado, 
a  district  of  warlike  Indians,  five  hundred 
leagues  from  Potosi,  and  rich  in  gold  and 
stones.  Don  Bartolom6  de  Alva  was  Camp- 
master  ;  he  equipped  the  expedition  and 
arranged  its  route,  and  when  everything  was 
in  train  we  left  Potosi  twenty  days  later. 
54 


CHAPTER    IX.     SHE    GOES    FROM    POTOSI 
TO   Los  CHUNCHOS. 


55 


AFTER  leaving  Potosi  for  Los  Chunchos 
we  came  to  a  village  called  Arzaga, 
occupied  by  friendly  Indians,  where  we  stayed 
a  week.  We  took  guides  with  us,  and  yet  we 
lost  our  way,  and  were  in  great  difficulties  on 
the  ledges  of  rock,  over  which  twelve  men 
toppled,  as  well  as  fifty  mules  carrying  supplies 
and  ammunition. 

On  reaching  the  interior  of  the  district,  we 
came  upon  plains  thick  with  innumerable 
almond-trees,  like  those  in  Spain,  olives,  and 
fruit-trees.  The  Governor  wanted  to  sow  seed 
there  to  make  good  our  loss  of  provisions, 
and  the  infantry  refused,  saying  that  we  had 
not  come  there  to  sow  but  to  conquer  and 
collect  gold,  and  that  we  could  look  for  food 
on  the  march.  Advancing,  on  the  third  day 
we  came  upon  a  tribe  of  Indians,  who  ran  to 
arms.  We  got  up  to  them,  and  at  the  report 
of  the  harquebuses  they  fled  in  confusion, 
leaving  some  dead  behind.  We  entered  the 
village,  without  being  able  to  capture  an 
Indian  to  act  as  guide. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  village,  the  Camp- 
master,  Bartolom£  de  Alva,  feeling  the  weight 
56 


of  his  helmet,  took  it  off  to  wipe  away  the 
sweat,  and  a  little  devil  of  a  boy  about  twelve 
years  old,  who  had  clambered  up  a  tree,  let 
fly  at  him  an  arrow,  which  pierced  his  eye 
and  knocked  him  over,  wounding  him  so 
seriously  that  he  died  three  days  afterwards. 
We  sliced  the  boy  into  ten  thousand  bits. 

Meanwhile  the  Indians,  over  ten  thousand 
in  number,  had  returned  to  the  village.  We 
charged  them  so  fiercely  and  slaughtered  them 
so  that  a  stream  of  blood  poured  down  the 
place  like  a  river.  We  kept  up  the  pursuit 
and  butchery  to  beyond  the  river  Dorado. 
Here  the  Governor  ordered  us  to  retire,  and 
we  did  so  unwillingly,  for  some  of  our  men 
had  found  some  sixty  thousand  pesos l  worth 
of  gold-dust  in  the  village  cabins,  and  others 
found  vast  quantities  of  it  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  filled  their  hats  with  it ;  and  we 
afterwards  heard  that  the  ebb  usually  leaves 
a  deposit  of  it  three  fingers'-breadth  in  depth. 
Accordingly,  later  on,  many  of  us  asked  leave 
of  the  Governor  to  conquer  this  district,  and 
as  he,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  refused  it,  many 
of  us  (of  whom  I  was  one)  broke  out  at  night 

57 


and  deserted,  and  on  reaching  a  town  occupied 
by  Christians,  we  each  went  off  on  our  own 
account.  I  myself  went  to  Cenhiago,  and 
thence  to  the  province  of  Las  Charcas,  with 
a  few  silver  coins,  which,  little  by  little,  but 
quickly  enough,  I  lost. 


CHAPTER    X.      SHE   GOES    TO    THE    CITY 
OF   LA   PLATA. 


59 


I  WENT  to  the  city  of  La  Plata  and 
entered  the  service  of  Captain  Francisco 
de  Aganumen,  a  wealthy  Biscayan  mine-owner, 
with  whom  I  stayed  a  few  days,  and  then  left 
because  of  a  dispute  with  another  Biscayan, 
a  friend  of  my  master's.  While  on  the  look- 
out for  a  place  I  found  refuge  under  the  roof 
of  a  widow  lady,  named  Dona  Catarina  de 
C haves,  esteemed  as  the  most  fmportant  and 
noble  lady  in  the  city.  At  the  entreaty 
of  one  of  her  servants,  with  whom  I  had 
formed  a  chance  friendship,  she  promised  to 
give  me  shelter  for  a  time.  Now  it  came  to 
pass  that,  as  this  lady  was  going  to  Stations 
on  Maundy  Thursday,  at  St.  Francis's,  she 
met  Dona  Francisca  Marmolejo,  wife  of  Don 
Pedro  de  Andrade,  nephew  of  the  Count  de 
Lemos ;  and  they  came  to  words  over  some 
question  of  precedence,  and  Dona  Francisca 
so  far  forgot  herself  as  to  strike  Dona  Catarina 
with  her  patten ;  whereon  there  was  a  great 
disturbance  and  crush  of  people.  Dona 
Catarina  went  home,  where  her  relatives  and 
acquaintances  collected,  and  the  matter  was 
passionately  debated.  The  other  lady  stayed 
60 


"  They  led  her  forth  to  her  house." 


in  the  church  amid  a  similar  group  of  her 
partisans,  not  daring  to  leave  till  nightfall, 
when  her  husband,  Don  Pedro,  arrived,  accom- 
panied by  Don  Rafael  Ortiz  de  Sotomayor, 
Corregidor  (he  is  now  Corregidor  at  Madrid) 
and  Knight  of  Malta,  together  with  the 
ordinary  Alcaldes  and  constables,  bearing 
lighted  torches ;  and  they  led  her  forth  to 
her  house. 

While  going  along  the  street  leading  from 
St.  Francis's  to  the  square,  a  clash  of  steel 
was  heard  in  the  square,  whereat  the  Corre- 
gidor went  to  the  spot  with  the  Alcaldes  and 
the  constables,  leaving  the  lady  alone  with 
her  husband.  At  this  instant  an  Indian  ran 
by  in  the  direction  of  the  noise,  and,  as  he 
passed  near  the  Senora  Dona  Francisca 
Marmolejo,  he  gave  her  a  slash  in  the  face 
with  a  knife  or  razor,  cut  it  right  across,  and 
rushed  on.  This  happened  so  suddenly  that 
her  husband,  Don  Pedro,  did  not  notice  it  at 
the  moment.  When  he  did  there  was  a 
great  din,  uproar,  hurlyburly,  rush  of  people, 
knifing,  and  arrests — a  deafening  confusion. 

Meanwhile  the  Indian  went  to  the  Senora 

61 


Dona  Catarina's  house,  and  said  to  the  lady, 
as  he  entered,  "  It  is  done ! "  The  disorder 
continued,  and  serious  consequences  were 
feared.  Something  must  have  been  discovered 
during  the  investigations,  for  on  the  third  day 
the  Corregidor  came  to  Dona  Catarina's  house, 
and  found  her  sitting  in  her  parlour.  After 
administering  the  oath,  he  asked  her  if  she 
knew  who  had  cut  Dona  Francisca  Marmolejo's 
face,  and  she  said  she  did.  He  asked  her 
who  it  was.  "  A  razor  and  this  hand,"  she 
answered.  Thereon  he  went  away,  setting  a 
guard  over  her. 

He  cross-examined  the  servants  till  he  came 
to  an  Indian,  whom  he  threatened  with  the 
rack ;  and  the  craven  averred  that  he  had 
seen  me  go  out  wearing  an  Indian  costume 
and  wig,  given  me  by  his  mistress ;  that  a 
Biscayan  barber,  called  Francisco  Ciguren, 
bought  the  razor ;  and  that  he  had  seen  me 
come  in  and  heard  me  say,  "It  is  done!" 
The  Corregidor  came  away,  arrested  me  and 
the  barber,  clapped  us  in  irons,  separated  us, 
and  placed  us  in  solitary  confinement.  In 
this  fashion  some  days  passed,  when  one 
62 


night  an  Alcalde  of  the  High  Court,  who  had 
taken  the  case  in  hand,  and  (for  what  reason 
I  don't  know)  arrested  some  constables, 
entered  the  jail  and  tortured'  the  barber,  who 
at  once  confessed  his  own  sins  and  his  neigh- 
bours'. Hereupon  the  Alcalde  came  to  me 
and  took  my  statement ;  I  flatly  denied  any 
knowledge  of  the  affair.  He  then  had  me 
stripped  and  placed  on  the  rack,  when  a 
solicitor  came  forward,  pleading  that  as  I  was 
a  Biscayan — and  therefore  entitled  to  the 
privilege  of  nobility — torture  could  not  be 
applied  to  me.  The  Alcalde  paid  no  heed, 
and  continued.  They  gave  the  screws  a 
turn :  I  was  firm  as  an  oak.  They  kept  at 
it,  questioning  me  and  twisting  the  screws, 
when  a  letter  was  brought  in  from  (as  I  after- 
wards learned)  Dona  Catarina  de  Chaves. 
This  was  placed  in  the  Alcalde's  hand,  he 
opened  it  and  read  it,  stood  looking  at  me 
awhile,  and  said,  "  Lift  the  youngster  off 
that!"  They  lifted  me  off,  took  me  back  to 
jail,  and  he  went  home. 

The  suit   continued — how  I  can't  tell — and 
I    came   out   of   it   condemned   to   ten   years' 

63 


service  in  Chile  (without  pay),  and  the  barber 
to  two  hundred  lashes  and  six  years  at  the 
galleys.  We  appealed,  soliciting  support  from 
the  men  of  our  province,  and  the  affair  went 
its  course  (but  how  is  more  than  I  can  say), 
till  one  day  the  High  Court  gave  judgement : 
whereby  I  was  acquitted  (as  was  the  barber), 
and  the  Senora  Dona  Francisca  was  con- 
demned in  costs.  These  miracles  often  happen 
in  such  cases,  especially  in  the  Indies,  thanks  to 
intelligent  knavery. 


64 


CHAPTER     XI.        SHE     GOES      TO      LAS 
CHARCAS. 


HAVING  escaped  from  this  fix,  I  was 
bound  to  get  away  from  La  Plata. 
I  went  to  Las  Charcas,  sixteen  leagues  off. 
There  I  once  more  met  the  aforesaid  vein- 
ticuatro,  Don  Juan  Lopez  de  Arguijo,  who 
put  me  in  charge  of  ten  thousand  sheep  of 
burden  I  and  over  a  hundred  Indians.  He 
gave  me  a  large  sum  of  money  so  that  I 
might  go  to  the  plains  of  Cochabamba,  buy 
wheat,  and,  after  having  it  ground,  sell  it  at 
Potosf,  where  there  was  a  dearth  and  where 
it  would  fetch  a  high  price.  I  went  there, 
bought  eight  thousand  fanegas2  at  the  rate 
of  four  pesos,  loaded  them  on  the  sheep, 
came  to  the  mills  at  Guilcomayo,  had 
three  thousand  five  hundred  fanegas  ground, 
took  them  to  Potosi,  and  sold  them  at  once 
to  the  bakers  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  pesos  and 
a  half.  I  returned  to  the  mills,  where  I  found 
part  of  the  rest  ground,  and  purchasers,  to 
whom  I  sold  the  whole  at  the  rate  of  ten 
pesos.  I  went  back  with  the  cash  to  my 
master  at  Las  Charcas,  and,  the  profit  being 
so  great,  he  sent  me  back  again  on  the  same 
errand  to  Cochabamba. 
66 


In  charge  often  thousand  sheep  of  burden,  a>i, 
over  a  hundred  Indians." 


Meanwhile,  having  nothing  to  do  at  Las 
Charcas,  I  went  one  Sunday  to  gamble  at 
a  house  belonging  to  Don  Antonio  Cal- 
der6n,  the  Bishop's  nephew.  There  were 
present  the  Vicar-General,  the  Archdeacon, 
and  a  Seville  merchant  who  had  married 
there.  I  sat  down  to  play  with  the  mer- 
chant ;  the  game  was  in  progress,  and  at  one 
deal  the  merchant,  who  was  already  ruffled, 
said,  "  I  stake ! "  I  asked,  "  What  do  you 
stake?"  He  repeated,  "I  stake!"  I  again 
asked,  "What  do  you  stake?"  He  banged 
down  a  doubloon,  saying,  "  I  stake  a  horn !  " 
I  replied,  "  Done  ;  and  I  go  double  on  the 
horn  that  you  still  have  left."  He  flung  his 
cards  down  and  drew  his  dagger.  I  drew 
mine.  The  bystanders  seized  us  and  sepa- 
rated us.  The  conversation  changed  and 
continued  till  late  at  night,  when  I  went 
home.  I  had  not  gone  far  when,  at  the 
corner  of  a  street,  I  came  on  him.  He  drew 
his  rapier  and  advanced  towards  me.  I  drew 
mine,  and  we  engaged.  After  some  thrusting 
and  parrying  my  point  got  home,  and  he  fell. 
A  crowd  collected  at  the  noise,  the  police 

67 


came  up  and  tried  to  arrest  me.  I  resisted, 
received  two  wounds,  and  retreated,  taking 
sanctuary  in  the  cathedral.  There  I  remained 
some  days,  having  been  warned  by  my  master 
to  be  careful.  At  last  one  night,  choosing 
my  time  well  and  rinding  the  coast  clear,  I 
set  out  for  Piscobamba. 


68 


CHAPTER   XII.      SHE   LEAVES  LAS  CHAR- 

CAS     FOR     PlSCOBAMBA. 


69 


ON  reaching  Piscobamba  I  stayed  at  the 
house  of  my  friend,  Juan  Torrizo  de 
Zaragoza,  where  I  remained  a  few  days.  One 
night,  during  supper,  we  got  up  a  gamble 
with  some  friends  who  dropped  in.  I  sat 
down  to  play  against  a  Portuguese,  Fernando 
de  Acosta,  a  great  plunger.  He  led  off  by 
staking  fourteen  pesos  on  each  trick.  I  scored 
sixteen  tricks  against  him.  H*e  gave  himself 
a  slap  in  the  face,  saying,  "May  the  devil 
incarnate  fly  away  with  me ! "  I  asked, 
"  What  have  you  lost  up  to  now  that  sets 
you  jabbering?"  He  stretched  out  his  hands 
towards  my  chin,  and  said,  "  I've  lost  my 
father's  horns ! "  I  dashed  my  cards  in  his 
face  and  drew  my  rapier  ;  he  drew  his.  The 
bystanders  intervened,  held  us  back,  and 
reconciled  us,  and  we  all  talked  and  jested 
about  rows  at  cards.  He  paid,  and  went 
away,  apparently  calmed  down.  Three  nights 
later,  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  as  I  was  going 
home,  I  noticed  a  man  standing  at  a  street- 
corner.  I  swung  my  cloak  over  my  shoulder, 
drew  my  rapier,  and  went  towards  him.  As 
I  approached  he  dashed  at  me,  thrusting  and 
70 


'  /  ran  my  paint  into  him,  and  he 
fell  dead:' 


calling  out,  "  Cuckold  rascal ! "  I  knew  his 
voice.  We  engaged,  I  ran  my  point  into 
him,  and  he  fell  dead. 

I  paused  awhile,  wondering  what  I  should 
do.  Looking  about  me  I  observed  nobody 
who  could  have  seen  us,  so  I  went  to  my 
friend  Zaragoza's  house,  held  my  tongue,  and 
got  into  bed.  Early  next  morning  the  Co- 
rregidor,  Don  Pedro  de  Meneses,  came,  roused 
me,  and  walked  me  off.  I  reached  the  jail 
and  was  put  in  irons.  About  an  hour  after- 
wards the  Corregidor  came  with  a  notary,  and 
took  my  statement.  I  denied  all  knowledge 
of  the  business.  Then  they  tortured  me,  and 
I  denied  everything.  The  indictment  was 
drawn  up,  evidence  was  collected,  and  I  gave 
mine.  When  the  case  came  on  witnesses 
were  produced  whom  I  had  never  even  seen. 
Sentence  of  death  was  passed.  I  appealed, 
but  nevertheless  an  order  to  execute  me  was 
issued.  I  was  utterly  cast  down.  A  monk 
came  in  to  hear  my  confession ;  I  refused. 
He  persisted ;  I  held  out.  A  cataract  of 
monks  was  let  loose  on  me,  enough  to  swamp 
me,  but  I  proved  a  Luther.  I  was  rigged 


out  in  a  taffeta  suit  and  hoisted  on  a  horse. 
The  Corregidor  was  bent  on  it,  and  told  the 
monks  who  beset  him  that  if  I  chose  to  go 
to  hell  it  was  none  of  his  business.  They 
hauled  me  out  of  jail,  and  took  me  down 
unfrequented  streets,  so  as  to  keep  clear  of  the 
monks.  I  came  to  the  gibbet.  The  bawling 
and  hustling  of  the  monks  dazed  me.  They 
forced  me  up  four  steps,  and  the  man  who 
pestered  me  most  was  a  Dominican,  Fray 
Andre's  de  San  Pablo,  whom  I  saw  and 
talked  with  about  a  year  ago  at  Madrid  in 
the  College  of  Atocha.  I  was  forced  a  little 
higher  up.  They  placed  round  my  neck  the 
volatin  (that  is  the  thin  rope  used  for  hanging), 
and  the  executioner  fumbled  over  it.  I  called 
out,  "  You  drunkard !  Put  it  on  properly,  or 
take  it  off!  These  priests  are  enough  to  put 
up  with !  " 

At  this  moment  a  messenger  galloped  in 
from  the  city  of  La  Plata,  sent  by  the  secre- 
tary under  orders  from  the  President,  Don 
Diego  de  Portugal,  on  the  petition  of  Martin 
de  Mendiola,  a  Biscayan,  who  had  heard  of 
my  prosecution  ;  and  the  messenger,  in  the 
72 


1  /  fame  fa  the  yilbtt.' 


presence  of  a  notary,  handed  the  Corregidor 
a  document  in  which  the  Court  ordered  him 
to  suspend  execution  of  the  sentence  and  to 
transfer  the  prisoner  and  the  depositions  to 
the  High  Court,  which  is  twelve  leagues  away. 
The  reason  of  this  was  extraordinary,  and  a 
manifest  mercy  of  God.  It  seems  that  those 
who  professed  to  be  eye-witnesses  in  the  case 
of  the  Portuguese  fell  into  the  clutch  of  the 
law  at  La  Plata  (for  what  offences  I  don't 
know),  and  were  sentenced  to  be  hanged  ;  and, 
at  the  foot  of  the  gibbet,  without  hearing  of 
my  plight,  they  owned  that,  being  suborned 
and  paid,  and  knowing  nothing  at  all  about 
me,  they  had  perjured  themselves  in  the 
murder  case ;  and  accordingly  the  Court,  at 
the  instance  of  Martin  de  Mendiola,  took 
action  and  ordered  a  respite.  This  message, 
which  came  so  opportunely,  moved  the  com- 
passionate populace  to  joy.  The  Corregidor 
ordered  me  to  be  removed  from  the  scaffold 
and  taken  back  to  jail,  whence  he  sent  me 
under  escort  to  La  Plata.  When  I  reached 
there,  and  they  looked  into  the  depositions 
(which  those  men  at  the  foot  of  the  gibbet 

73 


had  rendered  worthless),  inasmuch  as  there 
was  no  other  evidence  against  me,  I  was 
released  twenty-four  days  later,  and  I  remained 
there  a  little  while. 


74 


CHAPTER  XIII.     SHE   GOES   TO  THE  CITY 

OF      COCHABAMBA     AND     RETURNS      TO     LA 

PLATA. 


75 


FROM  La  Plata  I  went  to  the  city  of 
Cochabamba  to  settle  some  accounts 
between  the  aforesaid  Juan  L6pez  de  Arguijo 
and  Don  Pedro  de  Chavarria,  a  native  of 
Navarre,  residing  there  and  married  to  Dona 
Maria  Davalos,  daughter  of  the  late  Captain 
Juan  Davalos  and  of  Dona  Maria  de  Ulloa, 
who  became  a  nun  at  La  Plata,  in  the  con- 
vent which  she  founded  there.  We  checked  the 
accounts,  and  there  remained  a  balance  of  one 
thousand  pesos  in  favour  of  the  said  Arguijo, 
my  master,  and  against  the  said  Chavarria,  who 
cheerfully  and  courteously  handed  me  the 
sum  ;  and  he  invited  me  to  dinner  and  took 
me  into  his  house  for  two  days.  And  then 
I  said  farewell  and  departed  with  instructions 
from  his  wife  to  visit  her  mother,  the  nun, 
at  La  Plata,  and  to  give  her  many  kind 
messages. 

After  leaving  them  I  was  kept  busy  with 
friends  over  odds  and  ends  of  things  till  late 
in  the  afternoon.  At  last  I  started,  and  my 
road  took  me  past  the  said  Chavarria's  door. 
As  I  went  by  I  saw  a  crowd  in  the  porch 
and  heard  a  disturbance  inside.  I  stopped  to 
76 


find  out  what  the  matter  was,  and  at  that 
moment  Dona  Maria  Davalos  called  to  me 
from  the  window  :  "  Senor  Captain,  take  me 
with  you,  for  my  husband  wants  to  kill  me !  " 
No  sooner  said  than  done ;  she  leaped  down, 
and  up  came  two  monks,  who  said,  "  Take 
her  away  with  you,  for  her  husband,  who 
caught  her  with  Don  Antonio  Calderon,  the 
Bishop's  nephew,  has  killed  him,  and  locked 
her  up,  meaning  to  kill  her."  With  this 
they  placed  her  on  the  croup,  and  I  set  off 
on  the  mule  that  I  was  riding. 

I  never  halted  till  midnight,  when  I  came 
to  the  La  Plata  river.  On  the  road  I  had 
met  a  servant  of  Chavarria's  returning 
from  La  Plata,  and  he  must  have  recognised 
us  in  spite  of  my  efforts  to  give  him  a  wide 
berth  and  cloak  myself  up  ;  and  apparently 
he  informed  his  master.  On  reaching  the 
river  I  was  dismayed,  for  it  was  full,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  impossible  to  ford  it.  Dona 
Maria  Davalos  said  to  me,  "  Forward !  there 
is  nothing  for  it  but  to  cross,  God  help  us ! " 
I  jumped  off,  tried  to  find  a  ford,  and  made 
up  my  mind  to  do  what  seemed  best.  I 

77 


remounted,  with  my  distressed  lady  riding 
pillion,  and  plunged  in,  going  deeper  and 
deeper.  God  helped  us,  and  we  crossed  over. 
I  reached  an  inn  upon  which  we  stumbled 
close  by.  I  roused  the  landlord,  who  was 
amazed  at  seeing  us  at  that  hour,  and  at 
our  having  crossed  the  river.  I  looked 
after  my  mule  and  let  it  have  a  rest.  The 
landlord  gave  us  some  eggs,  bread,  and  fruit, 
and  we  tried  to  wring  out  our  clothes ;  and 
setting  off  again,  we  pressed  on,  and  at 
daybreak,  about  five  leagues  away,  we 
sighted  the  city  of  La  Plata. 

We  were  going  along,  somewhat  consoled 
by  this,  when  suddenly  Dona  Maria  clasped 
me  tighter,  saying,  "  Good  Heavens !  my 
husband !  "  I  turned,  and  saw  him  on  a 
horse  which  seemed  fatigued.  I  don't  know, 
and  I  still  wonder  how  this  could  be,  for  I 
started  first  from  Cochabamba,  leaving  him 
in  his  house,  and,  without  stopping  an  instant, 
I  reached  the  river,  crossed  it,  came  to  the 
inn,  stayed  there  about  an  hour,  and  set  off 
again.  Apart  from  this,  it  must  have  taken 
some  time  for  the  servant  (whom  I  met 
78 


' He  blazed  at  us  with  his  musket" 


on  the  road,  and  who  apparently  informed 
him)  to  reach  Cochabamba,  and  for  him 
to  saddle  and  start.  How  then  could  he 
catch  me  up  on  the  road?  I  cannot  imagine, 
unless  it  be  that,  not  knowing  the  way,  I 
took  a  more  roundabout  route  than  he  did. 
Anyhow,  when  about  thirty  paces  off  he 
blazed  at  us  with  his  musket  and  missed, 
the  bullets  passing  so  close  that  we  could 
hear  them  whiz  by.  I  urged  on  my  mule, 
scrambled  down  a  slope  overgrown  with 
thicket,  and  saw  no  more  of  him — no  doubt 
his  horse  was  dead  beat.  After  a  ride  of 
something  like  four  long  leagues  from  this 
point,  I  reached  La  Plata  quite  weary  and 
faint.  I  went  to  the  door  of  St.  Augustine's 
Convent,  and  then  handed  over  Dona  Maria 
Davalos  to  her  mother. 

I  was  going  back  for  my  mule  when  I  met 
Pedro  de  Chavarn'a,  who  dashed  at  me,  rapier 
in  hand,  without  giving  time  for  any  explana- 
tion. I  was  startled  at  seeing  him,  it  was  so 
unexpected.  He  came  upon  me  when  I  was  ex- 
hausted, and  I  pitied  his  delusion  in  thinking 
that  I  had  done  him  a  wrong.  I  drew  my  rapier, 

79 


and  kept  on  the  defensive.  We  entered  the 
church,  fighting  as  we  went.  He  must  have 
been  a  crack,  for  he  pinked  me  twice  in  the 
chest  without  my  having  touched  him.  Being 
now  roused,  I  pressed  him,  and  drove  him 
backwards  to  the  altar ;  there  he  made  a 
tremendous  cut  at  my  head,  and,  warding  it 

off  with   my   dagger,1    I    drove   my    rapier  a 

». 

hand's-breadth  into  his  side.  So  many  people 
rushed  up  that  we  could  not  go  on.  The  police 
arrived  and  wanted  to  haul  us  out  of  the 
church.  Hereupon  two  monks  of  the  monastery 
of  St.  Francis,  which  is  just  opposite,  passed 
me  through  and  took  me  in,  with  the  con- 
nivance of  the  Chief  Alguazil,  Don  Pedro 
Beltran,  brother-in-law  of  my  master,  Juan 
Lopez  de  Arguijo.  Charitably  received  into 
St.  Francis's  Monastery,  and  there,  tended  by 
the  fathers,  I  lay  secluded  for  five  months. 

It  also  took  a  long  while  to  heal  Chavarria's 
wounds,  and  he  kept  on  clamouring  for  his 
wife  to  be  given  back  to  him.  Concerning 
this  demand  there  were  proceedings  and 
investigations,  she  pleading  the  manifest 
danger  to  her  life.  The  Archbishop,  Presi- 
80 


dent,  and  other  authorities  intervened,  and 
at  last  it  was  arranged  that  both  should  enter 
religion  and  be  professed  ;  she  in  the  convent, 
and  he  wherever  he  chose. 

There  remained  my  case  and  the  indictment 
against  me.  My  master,  Juan  Lopez  de 
Arguijo,  came  and  informed  the  Archbishop, 
Don  Alonso  de  Peralta,  the  President  and 
judges,  of  the  straightforwardness,  sound 
instinct,  and  good-will  with  which  I  had  acted — 
all  quite  different  from  what  Chavarria  imagined ; 
that  I  had  done  nothing  beyond  suddenly 
helping  a  woman  who  flung  herself  upon  me 
to  escape  death,  conducting  her,  as  she  wished, 
to  her  mother's  convent.  This  being  estab- 
lished and  admitted,  the  prosecution  was 
withdrawn  and  ended,  and  the  couple  duly 
entered  religion.  I  came  out  of  my  retreat, 
settled  my  accounts,  and  often  visited  my  nun 
and  her  mother  and  the  other  ladies  there, 
who,  in  their  gratitude,  entertained  me  hand- 
somely. 


81 


CHAPTER     XIV.      SHE    GOES    FROM    LA 
PLATA   TO   PISCOBAMBA  AND   MIZQUE. 


I  TRIED  to  find  a  situation  which  I  could 
fill.  The  Sefiora  Dona  Maria  de  Ulloa, 
grateful  for  what  I  had  done  to  serve  her 
obtained  for  me  from  the  President  and  Court 
a  commission  to  go  to  Piscobamba  and  the 
plains  of  Mizque  to  investigate  and  punish 
certain  crimes  reported  from  there,  for  which 
purpose  they  assigned  me  a  notary  and 
alguazil,  and  we  set  out.  I  wen\  to  Pisco- 
bamba, where  I  issued  a  warrant  and  arrested 
Ensign  Francisco  de  Escobar,  resident  and 
married  there,  on  a  charge  of  treacherously 
killing  Indians  in  order  to  rob  them,  and  of 
burying  them  at  his  own  house  in  a  quarry. 
I  had  this  dug  out,  and  found  them  there.  I 
pursued  my  investigation  in  all  its  details  till 
it  was  complete  ;  when  it  was  closed  and  the 
parties  were  called  before  me  I  gave  judge- 
ment, sentencing  the  prisoner  to  death.  He 
lodged  an  appeal,  which  I  granted  ;  the  case 
and  the  accused  went  before  the  Court  of  La 
Plata ;  sentence  was  confirmed  and  the  culprit 
hanged.  I  went  on  to  the  plains  of  Mizque, 
settled  the  affair  that  took  me  there,  returned 
to  La  Plata,  and  reported  what  I  had  done, 
84 


handing  in  the  documents  concerning  Mizque ; 
and  after  this  I  remained  some  days  at  La 
Plata. 


CHAPTER   XV.     SHE   GOES   TO   THE   CITY 
OF  LA  PAZ — SHE  KILLS  A  MAN. 


I  WE  NT  to  La  Paz,  where  I  lived  quietly 
for  a  while.  Without  a  care  to  trouble  me, 
I  stopped  one  day  at  the  gate  of  Don  Antonio 
Barraza,  the  Corregidor,  to  gossip  with  a  servant 
of  his,  and — the  devil  fanning  the  embers — the 
end  of  it  was  that  he  gave  me  the  lie  and  struck 
me  in  the  face  with  his  hat :  I  drew  my  dagger, 
and  he  fell  dead  on  the  spot.  So  many  people 
set  upon  me  that  I  was  wounded,  seized, 
and  taken  to  jail.  My  convalescence  and 
prosecution  went  on  side  by  side.  After 
the  indictment  was  drawn  up  and  closed, 
other  charges  were  included  in  it,  and  the 
Corregidor  sentenced  me  to  death.  I 
appealed,  but  nevertheless  he  ordered  the 
execution  to  be  carried  out. 

I  spent  two  days  confessing  my  sins ;  next 
morning  Mass  was  said  in  jail,  and  the  holy 
priest,  having  consumed,  turned  round,  gave 
me  Communion,  and  went  back  to  the  altar. 
Instantly  I  dropped  the  Host  out  of  my  mouth 
into  the  palm  of  my  right  hand,  crying  out, 
"  I  appeal  to  the  Church !  I  appeal  to  the 
Church ! "  There  was  a  tumult  and  scandal, 
and  everybody  called  me  a  heretic.  The  priest 
88 


returned  on  hearing  this  noise,  and  gave  orders 
that  no  one  should  go  near  me.  He  finished 
his  Mass,  and  then  the  Lord  Bishop,  Don 
Fray  Domingo  de  Valderrama,  a  Dominican, 
entered  together  with  the  Governor ;  priests 
and  a  crowd  of  the  laity  collected  together, 
candles  were  lighted,  a  canopy  was  brought, 
and  they  took  me  in  procession  as  far  as  the 
tabernacle  where,  while  all  fell  on  their  knees, 
a  priest,  duly  vested,  took  the  Host  from  my 
hand  and  placed  It  in  the  tabernacle ;  I  could 
not  see  in  which  vessel  he  placed  It ;  then  my 
hand  was  scraped,  washed  repeatedly,  and  dried  ; 
the  church  was  cleared  even  of  the  authorities, 
and  I  remained  there.  (This  plan  was  sug- 
gested to  me  by  a  holy  Franciscan  monk  who 
had  given  me  good  advice  in  jail,  and  finally 
heard  my  confession.)  For  nearly  a  month 
the  Governor  kept  the  church  closed,  and  me 
under  restraint  ;  at  last  he  withdrew  the 
sentries,  and  a  holy  priest  (by  order  of  the 
Bishop,  I  presume),  after  seeing  that  the 
neighbourhood  and  road  were  clear,  gave  me 
a  mule  and  money,  and  I  set  out  for  Cuzco. 


89 


CHAPTER    XVI.     SHE    DEPARTS    TO    THE 
CITY  OF  Cuzco. 


I  RE  ACHED  Cuzco,  a  city  not  inferior  to 
Lima  in  population  and  wealth,  the  centre 
of  a  bishopric,  with  a  cathedral  dedicated  to 
the  Assumption  of  Our  Lady,  served  by  five 
prebendaries  and  eight  canons.  There  are 
eight  parishes,  four  monasteries  of  monks 
(Franciscans,  Dominicans,  Mercenarians,  and 
Augustinians),  four  colleges,  two  convents  of 
nuns,  and  three  hospitals. 

While  I  was  there  another  grave  disaster 
befell  me,  and  one  really  and  truly  undeserved, 
for,  though  of  bad  repute,  I  was  wholly  free 
from  blame.  Don  Luis  de  Godoy,  Corregidor 
of  Cuzco,  a  gentleman  of  great  gifts  and  one 
of  the  most  notable  thereabouts,  died  suddenly 
one  night.  He  was  murdered,  as  was  dis- 
covered later,  by  one  Carranza,  because  of 
certain  grievances  too  long  to  tell,  and,  as 
he  was  not  detected  at  once,  the  murder  was 
put  down  to  me  ;  and  the  Corregidor, 
Fernando  de  Guzman,  arrested  me  and  kept 
me,  sorely  afflicted,  in  jail  for  five  months 
till,  at  the  end  of  this  length  of  time,  it  pleased 
God  to  make  manifest  the  truth  and  my  entire 
innocence  in  the  matter.  Whereupon  I  was 
set  free,  and  departed  thence. 
92 


CHAPTER  XVII.    SHE  REACHES  LIMA,  AND 

LEAVES     IT     TO     FlGHT     THE     DUTCH — SHE 

is  SHIPWRECKED  AND  RESCUED  BY  THEIR 
FLEET — THEY  SET  HER  ASHORE  AT  PAITA 
— THENCE  SHE  RETURNS  TO  LIMA. 


93 


I  RE  ACHED  Lima  when  Don  Juan  de 
Mendoza  y  Luna,  Marquis  de  Montes- 
Claros,  was  Viceroy  of  Peru.  The  Dutch 
were  then  attacking  Lima  with  eight  men- 
of-war,  and  the  city  was  under  arms.  We 
went  out  with  five  ships  from  the  port  of 
Callao  to  meet  them,  and  engaged  them,  and 
for  a  long  while  luck  was  on  our  side ;  but 
they  hammered  our  flagship  s6  heavily  that 
she  sank,  and  not  more  than  three  of  us 
contrived  to  escape  by  swimming  till  we  came 
to  one  of  the  enemy's  ships,  which  picked  us 
up.  The  three  were  I,  a  barefooted  Franciscan 
monk,  and  a  soldier,  and  we  were  rudely 
greeted  with  japes  and  sneers.  All  the  rest 
on  board  the  flagship  perished. 

Next  day  when  our  vessels,  commanded  by 
General  Don  Rodrigo  de  Mendoza,  returned 
to  the  port  of  Callao,  nine  hundred  men  were 
missing,  among  whom  they  reckoned  me,  as 
having  been  on  the  flagship.  I  was  twenty-six 
days  in  the  enemy's  hands,  dreading  that  they 
would  take  me  to  Holland.  At  the  end  of  this 
time  they  set  me  and  my  two  companions 
ashore  at  Paita,  about  a  hundred  leagues 
94 


from  Lima ;  and  some  days  later,  after  we 
had  suffered  many  hardships,  a  kindly  man, 
touched  by  our  destitution,  clothed  us,  set 
us  on  the  right  road,  and  gave  us  where- 
withal to  reach  Lima,  and  we  arrived  there. 
I  stayed  seven  months  at  Lima,  struggling  as 
best  I  could.  I  bought  a  horse,  which  turned 
out  good  and  not  dear,  and  I  rode  it  for  a  few 
days  while  arranging  to  set  out  to  Cuzco.  As 
I  was  about  to  leave,  I  was  passing  through 
the  square  one  day  when  an  alguazil  came  up 
to  tell  me  that  the  Sefior  Alcalde,  Don  Juan  de 
Espinosa,  Knight  of  the  Order  of  Santiago, 
wanted  me.  I  went  to  his  worship.  Two 
soldiers  were  there,  and,  as  I  arrived,  they 
said:  "That  is  it,  sir!  This  horse  is  ours: 
we  lost  it,  and  can  soon  prove  it."  The  con- 
stables made  a  ring  round  me,  and  the  Alcalde 
said:  "What  is  to  be  done  in  this  case?" 
Taken  unawares,  I  knew  not  what  to  say  ; 
hesitating  and  perplexed,  I  must  have  looked 
guilty,  but  it  occurred  to  me  to  take  off  my 
cloak  and  cover  the  horse's  head  with  it.  And 
I  said  :  "  Sir,  I  beseech  your  worship  to  bid 
these  gentlemen  tell  you  which  of  this  horse's 

95 


eyes  is  blind,  the  right  or  the  left.  It  may  be 
another  horse  altogether,  and  these  gentlemen 
may  have  made  a  mistake."  The  Alcalde  said  : 
"  You  are  right.  Answer  both  of  you  together; 
which  is  the  blind  eye  ?  "  They  were  puzzled. 
The  Alcalde  said  :  "  Now  then,  both  together !  " 
One  said:  "The  left."  The  other  said :  "The 
right — no !  I  mean  the  left."  To  which  the 
Alcalde  replied  :  "  Your  evidence  is  bad  and 
does  not  agree."  They  then  repeated  together: 
"  The  left,  we  both  said  the  left,  there  is  no 
mistake  about  that."  I  said:  "Sir,  this  is  no 
proof  at  all,  for  one  of  them  says  one  thing 
and  the  other  says  another."  One  of  the  men 
answered  :  "We  said  precisely  the  same  thing 
— that  it  is  blind  in  the  left  eye ;  and  that's 
what  I  was  going  to  say  when  my  tongue 
slipped,  but  I  corrected  myself  at  once,  and 
I  tell  you  it's  the  left  eye."  The  Alcalde 
paused,  and  I  asked  :  "  What  are  your  wor- 
ship's commands  ?  "  The  Alcalde  answered  : 
"If  there  is  no  further  proof,  go  your  way 
with  God  ! "  Then  I  whisked  off  my  cloak 
and  said  :  "  Your  worship  can  see  that  both 
of  them  are  liars,  for  my  horse  is  not  blind 
96 


y  be  another  horse  altogether 


but  sound."  The  Alcalde  rose,  went  up  to 
the  horse,  looked  at  it,  and  said  :  "  Mount, 
and  go  with  God !  "  And,  turning  to  the  men, 
he  arrested  them.  I  got  up,  and  rode  off,  and 
never  heard  how  the  affair  ended,  because  I 
went  on  to  Cuzco. 


97 


CHAPTER    XVIII.     AT   Cuzco   SHE  KILLS 

THE    NEW    ClD    AND    IS    WOUNDED.1 


99 


I  WE  NT  back  to  Cuzco  again,  staying  at 
the  house  of  the  treasurer,  Lope  de 
Alcedo,  and  there  I  remained  a  while.  One 
day  I  went  into  a  friend's  house  to  gamble  ; 
two  of  us  who  were  friends  sat  down  to  play, 
and  the  game  went  on  ;  the  new  Cid  took  a 
place  beside  me — a  dark,  hairy  man,  of  great 
height  and  truculent  appearance,  nicknamed 
"  the  Cid."  I  went  on  with  the  game  and  won 
a  trick :  he  dipped  his  hand  into  my  money, 
took  some  reales  de  d  ocho,  and  walked  away. 
Soon  afterwards  he  came  back  once  more,  took 
another  dip,  helped  himself  to  a  handful,  and 
placed  himself  behind  me.  I  got  my  dagger 
ready,  continued  playing,  and  he  again  dipped 
into  my  money.  I  felt  he  was  going  to  do  so, 
and  nailed  his  hand  to  the  table  with  my 
dagger.  I  jumped  up  and  drew  my  rapier, 
the  bystanders  drew  theirs  ;  other  friends 
of  the  Cid  joined  in,  pressed  me  hard, 
and  wounded  me  thrice.  I  reached  the  street, 
and  this  was  a  piece  of  luck,  for  other- 
wise they  would  have  cut  me  into  ribbons. 
The  first  man  to  follow  me  was  Cid.  I  made 
a  thrust  at  him,  but  he  was  encased  like  a 
100 


"  /  nailed  his  hand  to  the  table," 


watch  ;  others  came  up  and  pressed  me  close. 
Two  Biscayans  chanced  to  pass  just  then, 
hastened  to  where  the  noise  was,  and  seeing 
me  engaged  single-handed  against  five,  took 
my  part.  The  three  of  us  got  the  worst  of  it, 
and  backed  down  the  whole  length  of  a  street 
till  we  came  to  an  open  space.  As  we  drew 
near  St.  Francis's  the  Cid  stabbed  me  from 
behind  with  such  force  that  he  went  clean 
through  my  left  shoulder ;  another  ran  his 
rapier  a  span  deep  into  my  left  side,  and  I 
dropped,  bleeding  in  torrents. 

At  this  both  sides  bolted.  I  staggered  up 
in  a  death-agony,  saw  the  Cid  at  the  church- 
door,  and  made  towards  him ;  he  met  me, 
calling  out:  "You  dog!  are  you  alive  still?" 
He  made  a  thrust  at  me,  which  I  parried  with 
my  dagger,  and  I  replied  with  one  in  the  mid- 
riff that  went  right  through  him  ;  he  fell, 
clamouring  for  confession,  and  I  fell  too.  At 
this  noise  up  came  a  crowd,  some  monks,  and 
the  Corregidor,  Don  Pedro  de  C6rdova,  of  the 
Order  of  Santiago,  who,  on  seeing  the  con- 
stables seize  me,  said  :  "  Stop !  confession  is 
the  only  thing  he  needs ! "  The  other  man 

101 


died  there  and  then.  Some  charitable  persons 
carried  me  to  the  treasurer's,  where  I  had 
been  staying.  I  was  put  to  bed,  and  the 
surgeon  did  not  venture  to  dress  my  wounds 
till  I  had  made  my  confession,  lest  I  should 
die  first.  That  splendid  fellow  Fray  Luis 
Ferrer  of  Valencia,  came  and  heard  my  con- 
fession ;  and,  seeing  that  I  was  dying,  I  re- 
vealed my  sex  to  him.  He  was  astounded, 
absolved  me,  and  strove  to  cheer  and  console 
me  ;  the  Holy  Viaticum  was  brought  and  ad- 
ministered, and  after  this  I  seemed  to  feel 
stronger. 

I  suffered  intensely  when  my  wounds  were 
dressed,  and,  what  with  the  pain  and  haemor- 
rhage, swooned  away  for  fourteen  hours  ;  and 
during  all  this  time  the  saintly  Father  Ferrer 
never  left  me.  May  God  reward  him  for  it ! 
I  recovered  consciousness,  invoking  St.  Joseph  ; 
abundant  grace  was  vouchsafed  me,  for  God 
provides  at  need.  Three  days  went  by,  and 
on  the  fifth  day  I  took  a  turn  for  the  better. 
Then  they  carried  me  one  night  to  St. 
Francis's — to  the  cell  of  Father  Fray  Martin 
de  Ar6stegui,  a  relative  of  my  friend  Alcedo — 

102 


1  They  carried  me  one  night  to  St.  Francis's.' 


where  I  spent  the  four  months  that  my  illness 
lasted.  The  Corregidor  was  beside  himself  on 
hearing  this,  stationed  sentries  about  the  place, 
and  had  the  roads  watched.  Being  better,  and 
convinced  that  I  could  not  remain  in  Cuzco, 
with  the  help  and  by  the  advice  of  my  friends, 
I  determined  to  change  my  quarters :  for  I 
dreaded  the  rancour  of  some  of  the  dead  man's 
friends.  Captain  Don  Caspar  de  Carranza 
gave  me  a  thousand  pesos ;  the  said  treasurer 
Lope  de  Alcedo  gave  me  three  mules  and 
arms ;  Don  Francisco  de  Arzaga  gave  me 
three  slaves.  Thus  equipped,  and  with  two 
trusty  Biscayan  friends,  I  left  Cuzco  one  night 
and  took  the  road  to  Guamanga. 


103 


CHAPTER  XIX.  SHE  LEAVES  Cuzco  FOR 
GUAMANGA — SHE  CROSSES  THE  BRIDGE  OF 
ANDAHUAILAS  AND  GUANCAVELICA. 


105 


AFTER  leaving  Cuzco,  as  I  have  just  said, 
I  came  to  the  bridge  of  Apurimac,  where 
I  found  the  police  and  the  dead  Cid's  friends 
waiting  for  me.  The  constable  said :  "  You 
are  arrested " ;  and,  with  eight  others,  he 
advanced  to  seize  me.  We  five  spread  out 
into  line,  and  a  fierce  contest  began.  Before 
long  one  of  my  negroes  fell,  a  man  on  the 
other  side  gave  his  last  groan,  and  so  did  a 
second  man  ;  another  of  my  negroes  dropped, 
and  I  laid  the  constable  low  with  a  pistol-shot ; 
others  of  his  band  were  wounded,  and  at  the 
sound  of  firearms  they  retreated,  leaving  on 
the  ground  three  of  their  men,  to  whom  no 
doubt  they  returned  later.  It  is  said  that 
the  jurisdiction  of  Cuzco  extends  to  the  said 
bridge,  and  no  further  :  wherefore  my  comrades 
accompanied  me  to  this  point.  There  they 
turned  back,  and  I  went  on  my  way.  I 
reached  Andahuailas,  where  I  came  across 
the  Corregidor  who,  in  the  blandest  and 
most  gracious  way,  placed  his  house  at  my 
service  and  invited  me  to  dinner.  Distrust- 
ing such  exaggerated  courtesy,  I  declined, 
and  departed. 
106 


'  /  /azV/  ^//^  constable  low  with  a  pistol-shot" 


I  came  to  the  city  of  Guancavelica,  put  up 
at  an  inn,  and  spent  two  days  seeing  the 
sights  of  the  place.  I  reached  a  small  square 
near  the  quicksilver-hill,  and  there  stood 
Doctor  Sol6rzano,  Alcalde  of  the  Lima  Court, 
who  had  come  to  check  the  accounts  of  the 
Governor,  Don  Pedro  Osorio.  I  noticed  an 
alguazil  (Pedro  Juarez  was  his  name,  as  I 
learned  afterwards)  go  up  to  him,  whereupon 
he  turned,  looked  at  me,  took  out  a  paper,  and 
looked  at  me  again  ;  and  then  I  noticed  the 
alguazil  and  a  negro  making  towards  me.  I 
strolled  off  as  if  I  had  no  cause  for  uneasiness, 
though  in  fact  I  had  a  great  deal  of  cause. 
Before  I  had  gone  far  the  alguazil  passed  in 
front  of  me  and  knocked  off  my  hat ;  I  knocked 
off  his,  the  negro  came  up  behind,  and  seized 
me  by  my  cloak.  I  shook  myself  free  of  it, 
drew  my  rapier  and  a  pistol,  and  both  attacked 
me  with  their  rapiers.  I  fired  at  the  alguazil 
and  knocked  him  over ;  I  engaged  the  negro, 
and  before  long  a  few  thrusts  sent  him 
down.  As  I  bolted,  I  met  an  Indian  with 
a  led  horse  (the  Alcalde's,  as  I  found  out 
later) :  I  snatched  it  from  him,  leaped  up, 

107 


and  rode  off  to   Guamanga,  fourteen  leagues 
away. 

Beyond  the  river  Balsas  I  dismounted  to 
give  the  horse  a  little  rest,  and  just  then 
perceived  three  horsemen  fording  the  river 
and  half-way  across.  I  don't  know  what 
moved  me  to  call  out,  "  Where  are  you 
going,  good  gentlemen  ? "  One  of  them 
replied,  "  To  arrest  you,  Captain ! "  I  got 
out  my  arms,  loaded  two  pistols,  and  said, 
"  You  won't  be  able  to  arrest  me  alive  ;  you'll 
have  to  kill  me  first,  and  then  arrest  me." 
And,  saying  this,  I  drew  near  the  river-bank. 
Another  of  them  said,  "  We  have  our  orders, 
Captain,  and  are  bound  to  obey,  but  we  are 
quite  at  your  service."  And  there  they  stopped 
in  mid-stream.  Thanking  them  for  their  kindly 
action,  I  left  three  doubloons  for  them  on  a 
stone,  mounted,  and,  after  many  compliments, 
went  on  my  road  to  Guamanga. 


108 


CHAPTER  XX.  SHE  REACHES  GUAMANGA  : 
AND  WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  HER  THERE  TILL 
SHE  MADE  HER  AVOWALS  TO  THE  LORD 
BISHOP. 


109 


1CAME  to  Guamanga,  and  put  up  at  an 
inn.  There  I  met  a  soldier  passing  that 
way,  who  took  a  fancy  to  the  horse,  and 
I  sold  it  to  him  for  two  hundred  pesos.  I 
went  out  to  have  a  look  at  the  city,  which 
I  thought  striking,  full  of  handsome  build- 
ings, the  best  I  saw  in  Peru.  I  noticed  three 
monasteries  of  Franciscans,  Mercenarians, 

V 

and  Dominicans  ;  a  convent  of  nuns  and  a 
hospital,  a  great  number  of  Indian  settlers, 
and  many  Spaniards.  It  is  a  splendid 
climate  for  a  settlement  in  the  plains,  neither 
cold  nor  hot ;  great  abundance  of  wheat, 
wine,  fruit,  and  cereals ;  a  fine  cathedral  with 
three  prebendaries  and  two  canons,  and  a 
saintly  bishop,  an  Augustinian,  Don  Fray 
Agustin  de  Carvajal,  my  mainstay,  though 
snatched  from  me  by  his  sudden  death  in 
the  year  '20.  It  is  said  that  he  had  been 
Bishop  there  since  the  year  '12. 

I  stayed  on  here  a  while,  and  ill-luck  would 
have  it  that  I  went  several  times  to  a 
gambling-hell,  and,  while  I  was  there  one 
day,  in  came  the  Corregidor  Don  Baltasar 
de  Quifiones.  Looking  at  me,  and  not  recog- 

110 


nising  me,  he  asked  me  where  I  came  from  : 
I  told  him  that  I  was  a  Biscayan.  He  said, 
"  Where  have  you  come  from  now  ?  "  I  said 
I  came  from  Cuzco.  He  paused  a  moment, 
still  looking  at  me,  and  said,  "  You  are 
arrested."  "Of  course!"  said  I,  and,  draw- 
ing my  rapier,  retreated  to  the  door.  He 
called  out  for  help  in  the  King's  name ;  there 
was  so  much  opposition  at  the  door  that  I 
could  not  get  through.  I  pulled  out  my 
three-barrelled  pistol  and  made  off,  going 
into  hiding  at  the  house  of  a  friend  I  had 
made  there.  The  Corregidor  went  off,  and 
seized  my  mule  as  well  as  some  small  be- 
longings of  mine  at  the  inn.  I  found  out  that 
this  friend  of  mine  was  a  Biscayan,  and 
stayed  with  him  a  few  days.  Meanwhile  not 
a  breath  was  heard  of  the  affair,  nor  did  the 
police  seem  concerned  about  it.  It  was 
plain,  however,  that  I  must  change  my 
quarters,  for  I  had  got  into  a  scrape  there 
as  elsewhere.  Having  made  up  my  mind 
to  it,  I  started  off  at  nightfall,  and  before 
long  ill-luck  threw  two  alguazils  in  my  way. 
They  challenged  me,  "  Who  goes  there  ? " 

in 


I    replied,    "  Friends  ! "      They  asked  me  my 
name,  and  I    said,   "  The  Devil !  "     This  was 
not  quite  a  proper  answer.     They  were  about 
to  seize   me    when    I    drew  my    rapier,    and 
there  was  a  great  uproar.      They  called  out, 
"  Help  in  the  name  of  the  law !  "     A  crowd 
gathered,   the     Corregidor   came    out   of  the 
Bishop's   house,   and  more    constables    made 
at  me.     Finding  myself  cornered,   I  fired   my 
pistol  and   knocked   one  of  them  over.     My 
position  grew  worse,  and  my  Biscayan  friend, 
with    others    from     the    same    part     of    the 
country,  ranged  themselves  beside  me.     The 
Corregidor   bawled   to   his   men   to    kill   me ; 
firearms   were    used  on   both  sides.     Accom- 
panied    by     four   torch-bearers,    the    Bishop 
came  out  and  down   into   the  middle   of  the 
throng,  while  his  secretary,  Juan  Bautista  de 
Arteaga,   led  him   to   me.     On   reaching  me, 
he   said,    "Ensign,   give   me  your  arms!"    I 
replied,    "  My    lord,     I     am     surrounded    by 
enemies!"      He  repeated,    "Give    them   up! 
you   are   out  of  harm's  way   with  me,  and   I 
pledge  my  word  to  see  you  safe  out  of  this 
whatever  it   costs   me."      I  answered,  "  Most 

112 


illustrious  Lord,  when  we  reach  the  cathedral 
I  will  kiss  your  Lordship's  feet."  At  this 
instant  four  of  the  Corregidor's  slaves  laid 
hold  of  me,  hustling  and  dragging  me  savagely 
about,  with  no  respect  for  his  Lordship's 
presence,  so  that,  to  defend  myself,  I  had 
to  use  my  hands  and  floor  one  of  them. 
Armed  with  buckler  and  rapier,  the  Bishop's 
secretary  hurried  up  with  others  of  the 
household,  loudly  denouncing  the  disrespect 
shown  to  his  Lordship ;  and  then  the  riot 
quieted  down  a  little.  His  Lordship  caught 
me  by  the  arm,  took  my  weapons  from  me, 
and,  placing  me  beside  him,  led  me  along 
into  his  house.  He  gave  orders  that  a  slight 
wound  which  I  had  received  should  be 
dressed,  that  I  should  have  supper  and  a 
bed,  and  that  I  should  be  locked  in  and  the 
key  be  taken  away.  The  Corregidor  arrived 
soon  afterwards,  and  had  a  long  talk  and 
argument  about  the  matter  with  his  Lord- 
ship, as  I  gathered  later  on. 

Next  morning,  at  about  ten,  his  Lordship 
had  me  brought  into  his  presence,  and  asked 
me  who  I  was,  where  I  came  from,  who  my 

L  113 


parents  were,  and  all  about  my  life,  how  and 
why  I  had  come  there,  going  into  particulars, 
and  weaving  into  his  questions  good  advice, 
dwelling  on  the  dangers  of  this  life — the  fear 
of  death  and  its  consequences — and  the  dread 
of  the  other  life  for  a  sinner  whose  taking  off 
comes  without  warning  ;  exhorting  me  to  be 
peaceful,  to  cultivate  a  gentle  spirit,  and  to  fall 
down  on  my  knees  before  God.  And  this  dis- 
course made  me  feel  very  small  ;  and,  seeing 
that  he  was  such  a  saintly  man,  and  feeling 
as  though  I  were  in  the  presence  of  God,  I 
revealed  myself,  and  said  to  him,  "My  Lord, 
all  that  I  have  told  your  Lordship  is  untrue  ; 
the  truth  is  this :  that  I  am  a  woman,  that 
I  was  born  in  such-and-such  a  place,  daughter 
of  So-and-So  and  So-and-So ;  that  I  was 
placed  at  such-and-such  an  age  in  such-and- 
such  a  convent  with  my  aunt  So-and-So,  that 
I  was  educated  there,  took  the  habit,  be- 
came a  novice,  and  was  about  to  be  professed 
when,  for  such-and-such  reasons,  I  ran  away  ; 
that  I  went  to  such-and-such  a  place,  stripped, 
dressed  up,  and  cut  my  hair,  went  hither  and 
thither,  embarked,  went  into  port,  took  to 
114 


'  /  place,  myself  at  the  feet  of  your  mos 
illustrious  Lordship." 


roving,  slew,  wounded,  embezzled,  and  roamed 
about  till  the  present  moment,  when  I  place 
myself  at  the  feet  of  your  most  illustrious 
Lordship." 

While  my  story  lasted — that  is  till  one 
o'clock — the  saintly  Bishop  sat  in  amazement, 
listening  to  me,  without  saying  a  word  or 
blinking  an  eyelid  ;  and,  when  I  had  finished, 
he  still  sat  speechless,  shedding  scalding  tears. 
Then  he  sent  me  to  rest  and  dine  ;  he  rang 
his  bell,  asked  for  an  old  chaplain  of  his, 
and  sent  me  to  his  oratory ;  there  they  placed 
a  table  and  mattress  for  me,  and  locked  me 
in,  and  I  lay  down  and  slept.  In  the  after- 
noon, at  about  four,  the  Lord  Bishop  sent 
for  me  again,  and  spoke  to  me  with  great 
gentleness  of  spirit,  beseeching  me  to  give 
profound  thanks  to  God  for  the  mercy  that 
He  had  vouchsafed  me  by  opening  my  eyes 
to  the  path  of  perdition  which  was  leading 
me  straight  to  everlasting  torment ;  he  ex- 
horted me  to  look  back  upon  my  past  life, 
and  to  make  a  good  confession — which  I  had 
in  great  part  made  already,  and  which  would 
now  be  easy  to  me ;  and  then  God  would 

"5 


direct  us  as  to  what  was  to  be  done  ;  and 
with  this,  and  similar  reflections,  the  after- 
noon came  to  an  end.  I  retired,  had  a 
good  supper,  and  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  the  Lord  Bishop  said  Mass, 
at  which  I  was  present ;  he  made  his  thanks- 
giving, went  to  breakfast,  and  took  me  with 
him  ;  he  renewed  his  homily  ai\d  continued 
it,  and  at  last  said  that  he  thought  my  case 
the  most  remarkable  one  of  its  kind  that  he 
had  ever  heard  of  in  his  life.  And  he  ended 
by  saying,  "But  is  it  really  a  fact?"  I 
replied,  "  Yes,  my  Lord ! "  He  answered, 
"  Don't  think  it  odd  that  so  unusual  an 
affair  should  be  a  strain  on  one's  credulity.' 
I  said,  "  My  Lord,  I  have  told  you  the  truth, 
and,  if  a  jury  of  matrons  would  set  your 
Lordship's  doubts  at  rest,  here  I  am  !  "  He 
answered,  "  Well,  I  agree  to  that,  and  am 
glad  to  hear  you  propose  it."  And  I  with- 
drew, as  it  was  his  reception-time.  I  dined 
at  noon,  and  then  rested  a  while.  In  the 
afternoon,  at  about  four,  two  matrons  came 
in,  saw  me,  and  were  convinced,  and  after- 
wards declared  on  oath  before  the  Bishop 
116 


that  they  had  visited  me,  and  were  duly 
enabled  to  certify  that  they  had  found  me 
a  maid  entire,  as  on  the  day  I  was  born. 
His  lordship  was  touched,  dismissed  the 
midwives,  sent  for  me,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  chaplain  who  accompanied  me,  stood 
up  and  embraced  me  tenderly,  saying,  "My 
daughter,  I  believe  without  a  doubt  all  that 
you  have  told  me,  and  I  shall  believe  in 
future  whatever  you  may  say ;  and  I  respect 
you  as  one  of  the  remarkable  people  in  this 
world,  and  I  promise  to  help  you  so  far  as 
I  can  for  your  own  benefit,  and  for  the  service 
of  God."  He  ordered  a  suitable  room  to  be 
got  ready  for  me,  where  I  stayed  comfort- 
ably, preparing  for  my  confession,  which  I 
made  as  well  as  I  could  ;  and  after  this  his 
Lordship  gave  me  Communion.  It  seems 
that  the  truth  leaked  out,  and  an  immense 
crowd  gathered,  it  being  impossible  to  ex- 
clude important  personages — much  to  my 
regret  and  to  his  Lordship's. 

At  last,  six  days  later,  his  Lordship  made 
up  his  mind  to  place  me  in  the  Convent 
of  St.  Clare  at  Guamanga  (the  only  convent 

117 


of  nuns  there).  I  put  on  the  habit,  the 
Bishop  came  forth  from  his  house,  leading 
me  beside  him  amid  such  a  throng  that 
everybody  in  the  city  must  have  been  there ; 
so  that  it  was  a  long  while  before  we  arrived. 
At  last  we  reached  the  door,  it  being  im- 
possible for  us  to  go  to  the  cathedral  first 
of  all,  as  his  Lordship  had  purposed,  for  the 
building  was  packed  as  soon  as  his  intention 
became  known.  There  the  whole  convent 
awaited  us  with  lighted  candles.  There  the 
Abbess  and  senior  nuns  signed  a  document, 
in  which  the  convent  authorities  undertook 
to  give  me  up  to  his  Lordship,  or  to  the 
prelate  who  should  succeed  him,  whenever 
I  was  asked  for.  His  Lordship  embraced  me 
and  gave  me  his  blessing,  and  I  went  in. 
They  led  me  in  procession  to  the  choir, 
where  I  prayed.  I  kissed  the  Abbess's  hand 
and,  after  embracing  the  nuns  and  being 
embraced  by  them,  I  was  taken  to  a  par- 
lour where  his  Lordship  was  waiting  for 
me.  There  he  gave  me  good  advice,  ex- 
horted me  to  be  a  good  Christian,  to  give 
thanks  to  Our  Lord,  and  to  frequent  the 
118 


sacraments,  and  his  Lordship  promised  to 
come  and  administer  them  to  me  (as  he  often 
did,  in  fact) ;  and,  after  generously  offering 
me  everything  I  needed,  he  left.  The  news 
of  this  event  spread  everywhere,  and  through- 
out the  Indies  those  who  had  seen  me 
previously,  and  those  who  before  and  after- 
wards heard  of  my  story,  were  amazed. 
Within  five  months,  in  the  year  1620,  my 
saintly  Bishop  died  suddenly,  and  I  missed 
him  sadly. 


119 


CHAPTER  XXI.  DRESSED  IN  A  NUN'S 
HABIT,  SHE  GOES  FROM  GUAMANGA  TO 
LlMA  BY  ORDER  OF  HIS  LORDSHIP  THE 
ARCHBISHOP,  AND  ENTERS  THE  TRINI- 
TARIAN CONVENT — SHE  LEAVES  IT, 
RETURNS  TO  GUAMANGA,  AND  GOES  ON 
TO  SANTA  FE  DE  BOGOTA  AND  TENERIFE. 


121 


SHORTLY  after  the  death  of  his  Lordship 
of  Guamanga,  I  was  sent  for  by  his 
Lordship  Don  Bartolome"  Lobo  Guerrero, 
Metropolitan  Archbishop  of  Lima  from  (it  is 
said)  the  year  1607  till  his  death  on  January  12, 
1622.  The  nuns  parted  from  me  with  great 
regret.  I  set  out  in  a  litter,  accompanied  by 
six  priests,  four  nuns,  and  six  pien  armed 
with  swords. 

Though  we  entered  Lima  by  night  we  could 
not  get  through  the  press  of  people  who  had 
gathered,  curious  to  see  the  Nun  Ensign. 
They  set  me  down  at  the  Archbishop's  house, 
and  I  was  yearning  to  get  in.  I  kissed  his 
Lordship's  hand,  he  received  me  graciously, 
and  gave  me  shelter  there  that  night.  Next 
day  I  was  taken  to  the  Palace  to  see  the 
Viceroy,  Don  Francisco  de  Borja,  Count  de 
Mayalde,  Prince  de  Esquilache,  who  was  in 
office  there  from  the  year  1615  to  1622  ; 
and  I  dined  at  his  house  that  day.  At  night 
I  returned  to  the  Archbishop's,  where  I  had 
a  good  supper  and  comfortable  room. 

On  the  following  day  his  Lordship  told  me 
to  look  about  and  choose  which  convent  I 

122 


should  like  to  live  in.  I  asked  leave  to  see 
them  all,  and  he  gave  it,  and  I  visited  all, 
saw  them,  and  stayed  four  or  five  days  in 
each.  At  last  I  decided  on  the  convent  of 
the  Most  Holy  Trinity  belonging  to  the  Com- 
mandresses  of  St.  Bernard — a  large  convent 
which  maintains  a  hundred  nuns  with  black 
veils,  fifty  with  white  veils,  ten  novices,  ten 
lay-sisters,  and  sixteen  servants.  I  remained 
there  exactly  two  years  and  five  months,  till 
clear  proofs  were  sent  from  Spain  that  I 
was  not,  and  never  had  been,  a  professed 
nun ;  whereupon,  to  the  universal  regret  of 
all  the  nuns,  I  was  allowed  to  leave  the 
convent,  and  I  set  out  on  the  way  to  Spain. 
First  of  all  I  went  to  Guamanga  to  see 
the  ladies  in  the  convent  of  St.  Clare  and 
to  bid  them  farewell.  They  kept  me  there  a 
week,  paying  me  many  attentions,  giving  me 
presents,  and  weeping  at  my  departure.  I 
continued  my  journey  to  the  city  of  Santa  Fe 
de  Bogotd  in  the  new  kingdom  of  Granada. 
I  saw  the  Lord  Bishop,  Don  Julian  de 
Cortazar,  who  strongly  urged  me  to  enter 
the  convent  of  my  order  there.  I  told  him 

123 


that  I  had  no  order  nor  religious  vocation, 
and  that  I  was  trying  to  get  back  to  my 
native  country,  where  I  should  do  what  seemed 
best  to  save  my  soul :  whereupon  he  gave 
me  a  handsome  present,  and  I  took  leave  of 
him.  I  went  to  Zaragoza  up  the  river  Magda- 
lena ;  there  I  fell  ill,  and  thought  the  soil 
unhealthy  for  Spaniards,  and  was  at  death's 
door.  After  a  few  days,  being  slightly  better, 
though  unable  to  stand,  I  was  ordered  away 
by  a  doctor,  and  I  travelled  down-stream  to 
Tenerife,  where  I  soon  recovered. 


124 


CHAPTER  XXII.  SHE  EMBARKS  AT  TENE- 
RIFE  AND  GOES  TO  CARTAGENA,  AND 
THENCE  STARTS  FOR  SPAIN  WITH  THE 
FLEET. 


125 


AS  I  there  found  that  the  fleet,  under  General 
Tomas  de  Larraspuru,  was  starting  for 
Spain  I  embarked  on  his  flagship  in  the  year 
1624.  He  received  me  with  great  courtesy, 
paid  me  much  attention,  gave  me  a  seat  at 
his  table,  and  treated  me  thus  till  we  were 
two  hundred  leagues  this  side  of  the  Strait 
of  Bahama.  There  was  a  quarrel  one  day 
whilst  we  were  gambling,  and  I  happened  to 
give  somebody  a  scratch  in  the  face  with  a 
little  knife  I  had  about  me,  and  there  was  a 
hullabaloo,  and  the  General  was  obliged  to 
shift  me  and  transfer  me  to  the  flagship  of 
the  second  in  command,  where  there  were  men 
from  my  part  of  the  country.  This  was  not 
to  my  liking,  so  I  begged  to  be  sent  on  board 
the  tender  San  Telmo,  commanded  by  Captain 
Andres  de  Ot6n,  which  was  a  despatch-boat ;  I 
was  transferred  to  it  but  suffered  hardships, 
for  it  leaked,  and  we  were  in  danger  of 
drowning. 

Thank  God  we  arrived  at  Cadiz  on  Novem- 
ber i,  1624.  We  disembarked,  and  I  stayed 
there  a  week,  receiving  great  attentions  from 
Senor  Don  Fadrique  de  Toledo,  General  of 
126 


'  We  "were  in  danger  of  drowning? 


the  Fleet,  who  had  in  his  service  two  of  my 
brothers.  I  made  their  acquaintance  and  pre- 
sented them  to  him,  and  as  a  compliment  to 
me  he  took  them  into  favour,  keeping  one 
of  them  on  his  own  staff  and  giving  the 
other  a  pair  of  colours. 


127 


CHAPTER  XXI 1 1.  SHE  LEAVES  CADIZ  FOR 
SEVILLE,  AND  LEAVES  SEVILLE  FOR  MADRID, 
PAMPLONA,  AND  ROME  ;  BUT,  HAVING  BEEN 
ROBBED  IN  PIEDMONT,  SHE  RETURNS  TO 
SPAIN. 


M  129 


FROM  Cadiz  I  went  to  Seville  and  stayed 
there  a  fortnight,  keeping  out  of  sight 
as  much  as  possible  to  escape  the  crowds 
that  thronged  to  see  me  dressed  like  a 
man  ;  thence  I  passed  on  to  Madrid,  where 
I  remained  twenty  days  without  revealing 
myself.  There  I  was  arrested  (I  don't  know 
why)  by  command  of  the  Vicar,  but  the 
Count  de  Olivares  ordered  me  to  be  released 
at  once.  There  I  was  engaged  by  the  Count 
de  Javier,  who  was  starting  for  Pamplona, 
and  I  set  out  and  served  him  for  about  two 
months. 

Leaving  the  Count  de  Javier,  I  started  from 
Pamplona  to  Rome,  it  being  the  holy  year 
of  the  great  jubilee.  I  made  my  way  across 
France  and  underwent  great  trials,  for,  while 
passing  through  Piedmont,  on  reaching  Turin 
I  was  arrested  on  suspicion  of  being  a  Spanish 
spy  ;  they  robbed  me  of  the  few  coins  and 
clothes  I  had,  and  kept  me  fifty1  days  in  jail, 
and  at  the  end  of  this  time,  after  (I  suppose) 
making  investigations  which  disclosed  nothing 
against  me,  they  released  me.  But  they  did 
not  allow  me  to  go  on  my  way,  ordering  me 
130 


to  turn  back  under  penalty  of  the  gallows ; 
so  back  I  had  to  go  in  distress,  poor,  on 
foot,  and  a  beggar.  I  reached  Toulouse  in 
France,  and  presented  myself  before  the  Comte 
de  Gramont,2  Viceroy  of  Pau  and  Governor 
of  Bayonne,  to  whom,  when  travelling  the 
other  way,  I  had  brought  and  handed  letters 
from  Spain.  This  kindly  gentleman  was 
shocked  to  see  me,  had  me  clothed,  treated 
me  generously,  and  supplied  me  with  a 
hundred  escudos  and  a  horse  for  my  journey, 
and  I  set  out. 

I  came  to  Madrid,  presented  myself  before 
His  Majesty,  and  besought  him  to  reward 
my  services,  which  I  set  forth  in  a  petition  that 
I  placed  in  his  royal  hand.  His  Majesty 
referred  me  to  the  Council  of  the  Indies,  to 
which  I  went,  laying  before  it  such  papers 
as  remained  over  to  me  after  being  robbed. 
The  Council  saw  me,  and,  with  the  approval 
of  His  Majesty,  graciously  granted  me  a  life- 
pension  of  eight  hundred  escudos — a  little  less 
than  I  had  asked  for.  This  happened  in 
the  month  of  August,  1625.  Meanwhile, 
several  experiences  befell  me  at  the  capital 


which  I  omit  as  of  no  account.  Shortly  after- 
wards His  Majesty  set  out  for  the  Cortes  of 
Arag6n,  and  reached  Zaragoza  at  the  beginning 
of  January,  1626. 


132 


CHAPTER    XXIV.     SHE    LEAVES    MADRID 
FOR  BARCELONA. 


I  STARTED  on  the  road  for  Barcelona 
with  three  other  friends  who  were  travel- 
ling that  way.  We  halted  awhile  at  Lerida, 
and  set  off  again  in  the  afternoon  of  Maundy 
Thursday.  Towards  four  in  the  afternoon,  a 
little  before  we  came  to  Velpuche,  while  we 
were  gay  and  free  from  care,  at  a  turn  in  the 
road  nine  men  sprang  out  of  a^thicket  on  the 
right,  cocked  their  muskets,  surrounded  us, 
and  ordered  us  to  dismount.  We  could  do 
nothing  else,  being  thankful  enough  to  dis- 
mount alive.  They  took  our  arms,  horses, 
clothes,  and  everything  we  had  about  us 
except  our  papers,  which  we  begged  of  them 
as  a  favour.  After  looking  through  them, 
they  gave  them  back  to  us,  not  leaving  us 
another  stitch. 

We  went  on  our  way,  naked  and  ashamed, 
and  got  to  Barcelona  during  the  night  of 
Holy  Saturday,  1626,  without  knowing — at 
least  I  didn't  know — what  to  do.  I  don't 
know  where  my  companions  went  to  look  for 
help.  For  my  own  part,  by  going  from  door 
to  door  and  telling  everybody  that  I  had  been 
plundered,  I  picked  up  some  tattered  clothes  and 


a  worn-out  hood  to  cover  me.  As  the  night 
went  on  I  sneaked  into  a  porch,  where  I  found 
some  other  poor  devils  stretched  out,  and 
gathered  that  the  King  was  in  the  city,  and 
that  the  Marquis  de  Montes-Claros — a  kind  and 
charitable  gentleman  whom  I  had  met  and 
spoken  to  at  Madrid — was  there  on  his  staff. 
I  went  to  him  in  the  morning  and  told  him 
of  my  disaster.  The  kindly  gentleman  was 
distressed  to  see  me,  had  me  clothed  at  once, 
and  made  an  opportunity  of  presenting  me  to 
His  Majesty. 

I  entered,  and  told  His  Majesty  how  my 
misfortune  had  happened.  He  listened  to  me, 
and  said,  "  But  how  did  you  let  yourself  be 
robbed  ? "  I  answered,  "  Sir,  I  couldn't  do 
more  than  I  did."  He  asked  me,  "  How 
many  of  them  were  there  ?  "  I  said,  "  Nine, 
Sir,  with  their  muskets  cocked,  and  they  took 
us  by  surprise  as  we  were  passing  a  thicket." 
His  Majesty  motioned  to  me  to  give  him  my 
petition.  I  kissed  his  hand  and  placed  the 
petition  in  it,  and  His  Majesty  said,  "  I  will 
see  to  it."  His  Majesty  was  then  standing 
up,  and  he  passed  out.  I  withdrew,  and  soon 

135 


afterwards  received  the  decree  in  which  His 
Majesty  ordered  them  to  give  me  four  rations 
as  a  half-pay  ensign  and  thirty  ducats  as  a 
gift.  Whereupon,  having  taken  leave  of  the 
Marquis  de  Montes-Claros,  to  whom  I  was 
so  much  beholden,  I  shipped  in  the  San 
Martin,  the  new  galley  from  Sicily,  which 
was  starting  for  Genoa. 


136 


CHAPTER  XXV.     SHE  GOES  FROM  BARCE- 
LONA TO  GENOA,  AND   THENCE  TO  ROME. 


HAVING  sailed  from  Barcelona  on  the 
galley,  we  shortly  reached  Genoa, 
where  we  stayed  a  fortnight.  During  that 
time  it  occurred  to  me  one  day  to  go  and  see 
the  Controller-General,  Pedro  de  Chavarria,  of 
the  Order  of  Santiago.  Apparently  it  was  too 
early,  for  the  house  was  not  open.  I  strolled 
about  to  kill  time,  and  then  sar  down  on  a 
stone  slab  at  Prince  Doria's  door ;  and  while 
I  was  there  a  well-dressed  man  came  and  sat 
down  there  too.  He  was  a  spruce  soldier, 
with  flowing  locks,  whom  I  recognised  as  an 
Italian  by  his  speech.  We  bowed  to  one 
another,  began  to  talk,  and  he  said  to  me, 
"  You  are  a  Spaniard  ?  "  I  answered  that  I 
was.  He  continued,  "  Well,  then,  you  must 
be  conceited — for  all  Spaniards  are — and  arro- 
gant as  well,  though  they  are  not  the  heroes 
they  make  themselves  out  to  be."  I  said, 
"  For  my  part,  I  look  upon  them  all  as 
genuine  men  in  every  respect."  He  answered, 
"  I  look  upon  them  all  as  so  many  turds."  I 
rose,  remarking,  "  Don't  talk  like  that,  for  the 
vilest  Spaniard  is  better  than  the  best  Italian." 
He  said,  "  Will  you  back  what  you  say  ? " 
138 


I  replied,  "Yes,  I  will."  He  said,  "Then  the 
sooner  the  better."  I  answered,  "Good!" 
And  we  went  behind  some  waterworks  near 
by,  he  following  me.  We  drew  our  rapiers, 
and  began  cutting  and  thrusting  ;  and  just 
then  I  saw  another  man  draw  up  beside  him. 
They  cut  and  I  parried ;  I  gave  the  Italian 
a  thrust,  which  sent  him  down.  There 
remained  the  other,  and  I  was  forcing  him 
to  give  way  before  me  when  up  came  a  lame 
man,  but  with  plenty  of  pluck — a  friend,  no 
doubt — who  took  his  stand  beside  him  and 
pressed  me  closely.  Another  man  came  up 
and  took  my  side,  perhaps  because  he  saw 
I  was  alone,  for  I  didn't  know  him.  So  many 
men  joined  in  that  the  affair  became  a  hurly- 
burly,  and  so,  fortunately,  and  without  any 
one's  noticing  it,  I  stole  off,  went  to  my  galley, 
and  never  heard  what  the  end  of  it  was. 
There  I  dressed  a  slight  wound  in  my  hand. 
At  this  time  the  Marquis  de  Santa  Cruz  was 
at  Genoa. 

I  left  Genoa  for  Rome,  kissed  the  foot  of 
His  Holiness  Urban  VIII.,  and  told  him 
briefly,  as  well  as  I  could,  about  my  life,  wan- 


derings,  sex,  and  virginity  ;  and  His  Holiness 
was  clearly  amazed  at  my  story  and  graciously 
gave  me  leave  to  go  on  wearing  man's  clothes, 
urging  me  to  live  uprightly  in  future,  to  avoid 
injuring  my  neighbour,  and  to  fear  God's 
vengeance  respecting  His  commandment — 
Non  occides.  And  then  I  withdrew.  My  case 
became  notorious  in  Rome,  and  I  %saw  myself 
surrounded  by  a  remarkable  crowd  of  great 
personages — princes,  bishops,  and  cardinals—- 
and every  door  was  thrown  open  to  me ;  so 
that,  during  the  month  and  a  half  I  spent  in 
Rome,  there  was  seldom  a  day  that  I  was  not 
invited  and  entertained  by  princes ;  and  one 
Friday  in  particular,  at  the  special  order  and 
expense  of  the  Roman  Senate,  I  was  invited 
and  entertained  by  certain  gentlemen,  and 
they  inscribed  my  name  on  the  roll  as  a 
Roman  citizen.  And  on  St.  Peter's  Day, 
June  29,  1626,  they  took  me  into  the  Chapel 
of  St.  Peter,  where  I  saw  the  cardinals  and 
the  usual  ceremonies  of  that  feast-day  ;  and 
all,  or  most  of  them,  showed  me  every  atten- 
tion and  kindness,  and  many  of  them  con- 
versed with  me.  And  in  the  evening,  while 
140 


three  cardinals  were  standing  round  me,  one  of 
them — it  was  Cardinal  Magalon — said  my  only 
defect  was  that  I  was  a  Spaniard.  To  which 
I  replied,  "  Speaking  under  correction,  your 
Eminence,  I  think  that  is  the  only  good  thing 
about  me." 


CHAPTER   XXVI.     FROM  ROME  SHE  GOES 
TO  NAPLES. 


A  FTER  a  month  and  a  half  in  Rome,  I 
•^i-  left  there  for  Naples  on  July  5,  1626; 
we  embarked  at  Ripa.  One  day,  while 
sauntering  on  the  quay  at  Naples,  my  atten- 
tion was  drawn  to  the  guffaws  of  two 
wenches  who  were  gossiping  with  a  couple  of 
youngsters  and  staring  at  me.  I  looked  at 
them,  and  one  of  them  said,  "Whither  away, 
my  lady  Catalina  ?  "  I  replied,  "  To  give  you 
a  hundred  thumps  on  the  scruff  of  your  necks, 
my  lady  strumpets,  and  a  hundred  slashes  to 
anybody  who  tries  to  defend  you."  They  were 
mum,  and  slunk  off. 


144 


"A  hundred  slashes  to  anybody  who  tries  to  lie/end  yo 


LA    MONJA    ALF&REZ 

COMEDIA   FAMOSA   DE 

JUAN    PEREZ   DE   MONTALBAN 


N  145 


PERSONAS 

DON   DIEGO,  galan 

DON   JUAN 

GUZMAN    (LA   MONJA  ALF&REZ,  DONA   CATALINA 

DE  ERAUSO) 
DONA  ANA,  dama 
MIGUEL   DE    ERAUSO,  oficial 
EL   NUEVO   CID,  alfe'rez 
EL   CASTELLANO  del  CALLAO 
EL  VIZCONDE   DE   LA   ZOLINA    * 
SEBASTIAN   DE   ILLUMBE,  hidalgo 
TEODORA,  dama  cortesana 
TRISTAN,  criado  de  D.  Diego 
MACHIN,  criado  de  Guzman 
INES,  criada  de  Dona  Ana 
UN  SOLDADO 

UN    ALCALDE    DE    CORTE 
UN    RELIGIOSO 
PRESOS    DE    LA    CARCEL 


LA  MONJA  ALF£REZ 

COMEDIA 


JORNADA    PRIMERA 


ESCENA    I. 

GUZMAN  Y  MACHIN,  de  famine, 
DONA  ANA  t  INKS  tea  mantos. 


DONA   ANA. 

No  puedo  enfrenar  el  llanto. 

GUZMAN. 

No  lo  hubiera  yo  emprendido 
Mi  bien,  si  hubiera  entendido 
Que  tii  lo  sintieras  tanto. 
Mas  ya  es  hecho,  tu,  senora, 
Eres  culpada,  yo  no, 
Pues  que  tu  amor  me  oculto 
Lo  que  me  descubre  ahora. 

DONA   ANA. 

El  favor  mas  limitado 
De  una  principal  muger, 

147 


No  basta  para  prender 
La  esperanza  y  el  cuidado. 
<;  Puedo  yo,  siendo  quien  soy 
Darte  senales  mas  claras 
De  mi  amor  ?  <r  Y  tu  estimaras, 
Los  favores  que  te  doy, 
Si  te  entregase  liviana 
La  posesion  de  mi  pecho? 

GUZMAN. 

Ya  no  hay  remedio,  ya  es  hecho 
Mas,  alivie  mi  Dona  Ana, 
Si  mi  ausencia  te  lastima, 
El  mal  que  sintiendo  estas, 
Ver  que  dos  leguas  no  mas 
Dista  el  Callao  de  Lima. 
Y  no  dara  luz  la  aurora, 
Jamas  al  monte  ni  prado, 
Sin  que  a  mi  me  la  haya  dado 
Ese  sol  que  el  alma  adora. 
Asi  desmentir  podre" 
La  ausencia  que  te  amenaza, 
Que  supuesto  que  la  plaza 
Yo  de  soldado  asent£, 
Y  en  el  puerto  he  de  asistir, 
Las  noches  que  estar  de  posta 
148 


No  me  toque  ;  por  la  posta 
A  verte  podr6  venir. 

DONA   ANA. 

Con  eso  no  solamente 
Se  alivian  mis  sentimientos, 
Mas  es  para  mis  tormentos 
El  medio  mas  conveniente : 
Pues  si  de  las  ansias  mias 
La  envidiosa  diligencia 
Tuvo  indicios,  con  tu  ausencia 
Desmentimos  las  espias  : 
Que  ya  sabes  que  el  efeto 
De  poderte  ver  y  hablar, 
Solamente  ha  de  durar 
Lo  que  durare  el  secreto  ; 
Y  asi  de  nuevo  te  pido, 
Que  la  palabra  me  des 
De  no  rompello,  aunque  estes 
Ya  zeloso,  ya  ofendido. 

GUZMAN. 

Y  de  nuevo  te  prometo 
Que  no  sepa  mi  cuidado 
De  mf,  sino  este  criado, 
Que  es  ejemplo  del  secreto. 

149 


MACHIN. 

No  viene  Machin  de  casta 
Que  se  pierde  por  hablar 
Pues  para  saber  callar, 
Soy  Vizcaino,  que  basta. 

DONA   ANA. 

Pues  Alonso  de  Guzman 
Hace  de  ti  confianza, 
Esa  es  la  mayor  probanza 
Que  tus  meritos  me  dan. 
Y  tu  (d  Guzman),  porque  la  ocasion 
Jamas  pierdas  de  venir 
A  verme,  sin  que  inferir 
Pueda  nadie  tu  aficion : 
Pues  es  la  curiosidad 
Tan  necia  que  te  podria 
Poner  una  oculta  espia, 
Que  al  entrar  en  la  ciudad 
Te  siguiese  y  nuestro  amor 
Viniera  a  saberse,  quiero 
Que  el  caballo  mas  ligero, 
Del  indiano  picador 
Agitado,  escede  al  viento, 
Obedezca  a  tu  cuidado, 
Porque  pedirlo  prestado, 
150 


No  de"  indicios  de  tu  intento  : 

(Dale  una  cadena.} 
Del  valor  de  esta  cadena 
Puedes  comprallo,  y  advierte, 
Que  pues  en  verte  6  no  verte 
Esta  mi  gloria,  6  mi  pena, 
No  haya  estorbo  que  resista 
El  efeto  d  mi  deseo, 
Si  cuanta  hacienda  poseo 
Me  ha  de  costar  una  vista. 

GUZMAN. 

<iQu£  diligencia  y  cuidado 
En  servirte  no  pondra, 
Quien  de  tu  favor  esta 
For  mil  partes  obligado  ? 
Esta  cadena  recibo, 
Mas  porque  sus  eslabones 
Manifiesten  las  prisiones 
En  que  enamorado  vivo 
Que  por  comprar  el  caballo  : 
Que  donde  es  tal  el  favor, 
Alas  son  los  pies  de  amor 
Para  volar  a  gozallo. 

DONA    ANA. 

A  Dios  pues,  que  estoy  temiendo 


La  asechanza  cuidadosa 
De  alguna  aficion  zelosa. 

GUZMAN. 

Aunque  de  oillo  me  ofendo, 
Trueco  a  tu  opinion,  sefiora, 
Los  sentimientos  mas  graves. 

DONA   ANA. 

No  hay  que  advertirte  pues  sabes 
La  sefia,  ventana  y  hora....     (Vase.) 


ESCENA  II. 
GUZMAN  Y  MACHIN. 

GUZMAN. 

<;  Qu6  dices  de  mi  ventura  ? 

MACHIN. 

Que  pasa  gran  tempestad 
Tu  voto  de  castidad, 
Entre  ocasion  y  hermosura  : 
Pero  Don  Diego  tu  amigo 
Viene  aqui.... 
152 


GUZMAN. 

Mucho  sintiera 
Que  a  Dona  Ana  conociera 
Si  agora  la  vi6  conmigo  : 

(Aparte.) 

Cuando  mi  pecho  le  estima... 
De  tal  suerte,  que  por  dar 
A  sus  temores  lugar, 
Gusto  de  salir  de   Lima. 


ESCENA    III. 

GUZMAN,   MACHIN,   DON    DIEGO, 
TRISTAN. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Era  ya  tiempo  de  veros 
Guzman  amigo. 

GUZMAN. 

El  buscaros 

Pudiera  escusar,  si  hallaros 
Ha  de  ser  para  perderos. 


DON    DIEGO. 

<iC6mo  ? 

GUZMAN. 

De  Lima  me  ausento 

DON    DIEGO. 

<iQu£  dices? 

GUZMAN. 

A 

Mi  natural 

Inclinacion  es  martial, 
Y  vivo  en  la  paz  violento, 
Y  al  rey  me  parto  a  servir 
En  el  puerto. 

DON    DIEGO. 

No  me  mueve 
Ser  la  distancia  tan  breve, 
A  que  deje  de  sentir 
La  ausencia  vuestra,  Guzman. 

GUZMAN. 

Tantas  veces  volvere 
A  veros,  cuantas  me  de 
Licencia  mi  capitan. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Porque  podais  acordaros, 
Y  por  ser  en  la  milicia 


La  gala  de  mas  codicia, 
Un  penacho  quiero  daros 
Escelente,  cuyas  plumas 
En  la  fineza  y  color, 
Unas  son  alas  de  amor, 
Y  otras  de  Venus  espumas. 

GUZMAN. 

Yo  lo  estimo,  porque  veo, 
Que  en  el,  Don  Diego,  me  dais 
Las  alas  que  imaginais 
Que  en  vuestra  ausencia  deseo. 
Mas  pues  me  le  dais  por  prenda 
De  memoria,  aunque  confia 
De  vuestra  amistad  la  mia 
Que  el  olvido  no  la  ofenda, 
Os  quiero  dar  unos  guantes, 
(Los  guantes  que  saque  Guzman  serdn 

de  ante  muy  bor dados) 
En  la  hechura  y  el  olor, 
En  la  materia  y  valor, 
A  los  que  veis  semejantes  : 
Que  cuando  por  su  estrana 
Novedad  los  estimeis, 
Hacello  al  menos  podreis 
Por  ser  hechos  en  Espana. 


DON    DIEGO. 

De  vos  en  todo  escedido 
Y  obligado  me  confieso, 
Y  por  venceros  en  eso, 
Me  quiero  dar  por  vencido. 

GUZMAN. 

Estos  brazos  os  daran      * 
La  respuesta.     A  Dios  Don  Diego. 
(Abrdzanse.) 

DON  DIEGO. 

A  Dios  :  Tristan,  lleva  luego 
Aquel  penacho  a  Guzman. 

GUZMAN. 

Siglos,  Machin,  considero 
Para  partir  los  instantes  : 
Lleva  a  Don  Diego  los  guantes, 
Que  puesto  a  caballo  espero.... 

(Vase.) 

MACHIN. 

Yo  lo  hare,  mas  si  supiera 
Que  tti  no  habias  de  rompellos 
Por  Dios  que  te  hubiera  dellos 
Cortado  una  bigotera.     (Vase.) 
156 


ESCENA    IV. 
DON    DIEGO,    TRISTAN. 

DON    DIEGO. 

<j  Que*  te  detiene  Tristan  ? 

TRISTAN. 

Solo  el  decirte  que  vf 
Mientras  hablabas  aqui 
Con  Alfonso  de  Guzman 
A  Dona  Ana. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Dame,  amor, 
La  ventura  en  alcanzar 
Como  el  cuidado  en  seguir. 

TRISTAN. 
Todo  se  alcanza  obligando. 

DON    DIEGO. 

O  he  de  vivir  alcanzando, 

O  siguiendo  he  de  morir.     (Vase.} 


'57 


ESCENA    V. 

MIGUEL  DE  ERAUSO,  (vestido  de 
soldado,  y  en  jubon,  abriendo  una  carta, 
y  va  dentro  de  ella  un  retrato.} 

MIGUEL  (fee  el  sobrescrito  y  luego  la  carta.) 

Al  alferez  Miguel  de  Erauso,  mi  hijo,  en  el  puerto  del 
Callao,  en  los  reinos  del  Peru. 

Hijo,  valga  por  testamento  esta  carta,  pues  me 
tiene  a  las  puertas  de  la  muerte  la  afrenta  que 
vuestra  hermana  Catalina  nos  ha  hecho,  ausentan- 
dose  ocultamente  de  San  Sebastian.  No  os  lo  he 
escrito  antes,  aunque  ya  hace  trece  anos,  por  escu- 
saros  la  pena  ;  mas  agora  por  haber  entendido  que 
paso  a  esos  reinos  en  trage  de  varon,  por  el  deseo 
de  su  remedio,  atropello  vuestro  sentimiento.  Si  la 
suerte  6  la  diligencia  la  hallare,  noble  sois  y  cuerdo, 
y  sabreis  lo  que  habeis  de  hacer.  Dios  os  guarde. 
De  San  Sebastian,  a  20  de  febrero  de  1618  anos, 
Vuestro  padre,  MIGUEL  DE  ERAUSO. 

^C6mo  es  posible  que  haya  yo  leido 
Estos  renglones,  sin  haber  perdido 
Si  no  la  vida  el  seso  ? 
jQue  se  arrojase  a  tan  infame  esceso, 
158 


Muger  que  naci6  noble,  cielo  santo  ! 

Mas  si  naci6  muger  ^de  que"  me  espanto? 

jO  carta  que  el  veneno  por  los  ojos 

Disteis  al  alma !  en  atomos  despojos 

De  mi  furor,  al  viento 

Informad  de  mi  grave  sentimiento. 

(Rompe  la  carta.) 

No  os  pongan  las  crueldades  de  mi  suerte 
O  mi  vecina,  ya  forzosa  muerte 
En  ageno  poder,  para  que  al  suelo 
Sirvais  en  mi  deshonra  por  libelo. 
Y  tu,  retrato,  si  tambien  del  dueno, 
Que  representas  por  la  semejanza, 
La  fealdad  y  engano  no  te  alcanza, 
Libra  mi  honor  de  tan  infame  empefio, 
Verdad  me  informa,  porque  conocella 
Puedo  por  tf,  si  acaso  llego  a  vella. 
Mas  en  diverse  trage,  y  las  facciones 
Ya  de  los  anos,  del  calor,  del  frio, 
Mudadas,  y  en  ame>icas  regiones 
Que  son  tan  dilatadas,  desvarfo 
Sera  el  querer  buscalla, 
Ni  prometerme  que  podran  hallalla 
Cuidado,  ingenio,  6  diligencia  alguna ; 
Encomiendolo  al  tiempo  y  la  fortuna. 


ESCENA    VI. 

MIGUEL,  EL  NUEVO  CID,  GUZMAN 
MACHIN,   UN    SOLDADO. 

EL   CID. 

Sepa  sefior  soldado 

Que  en  esta  fuerza,  es  fuero  ^a  asentado 

Que  paguen  los  bisonos  la  patente. 

GUZMAN. 

Pues  yo  que  no  lo  soy,  no  solamente 
No  tengo  de  pagalla, 
Mas  de  quien  me  la  pida  he  de  cobralla, 
Que  soy  Alonso  de  Guzman.... 

MACHIN. 

^  Qu6  es  esto  ? 

EL   CID. 

Sabed  Miguel  Erauso  que  el  soldado 
Que  mirais,  mas  cerril  que  desbarbado, 
Nos  niega  la  patente. 

GUZMAN  ( aparte ). 

jOh  santos  cielos! 
Este  es  mi  hermano. 

EL  CID. 

Diga  ^en  qu6  se  fia? 
1 60 


Mas  barba,  amigo,  y  menos  valentia ; 
Sepa  que  a  mi  me  llaman  por  mal  nombre 
El  nuevo  Cid,  ye"!  es  apenas  hombre, 
Por  que  es  razon  que  note 
Que  el  valor  se  divisa  del  bigote. 

GUZMAN. 

Pues  porque  este"  el  valor  mas  en  su  centre 
Echo  yo  los  bigotes  hacia  dentro 
Y  basta.... 

MACHIN  (aparte). 

Aqui  entro  yo,  que  ya  se  enoja, 
Y  esta  dos  dedos  de  sacar  la  hoja. 
{Miguel  mira    atentamente  d  Alonso  de 

Guzman.} 

Sefior,  advierte,  que  esta  es  ley  que  puso 
El  uso,  y  no  es  estafa  lo  que  es  uso. 

EL  CID. 

Es  cierto  :  que  jamas  la  cortesia 
Militar,  permitio  supercheria. 

GUZMAN. 

Por  ese  estilo  sf,  mostralles  quiero, 
Que  estimo  la  opinion  mas   que  el  dinero  ; 
Todos  conmigo  come'ran  mafiana. 

EL  CID. 
Con  eso  a  todos  por  amigos  gana. 

o  161 


SOLD ADO. 

Pues  quedese  esto  asi  ;  y  agora  un  rato 
Al  ocio  le  sirvamos  este  plato ; 

(Saca  unos  naipes.) 
<;Jugais  Alonso  de  Guzman? 

GUZMAN. 

A  todo  ; 
Pero  mas  a  los  dados  me  acocnodo. 

EL  CID. 
Usanse  poco  en  la  region  indiana. 

GUZMAN. 

<?A  que  hemos  de  jugar  ? 
EL  CID. 

,?No  es  cosa  liana 

Que  en  el  Peru  no  saben  los  tahures 
Otro  juego  mejor  que  los  albures  ? 
(Juegan    a    los    naipes    sobre    un    bufete, 
y  Miguel  un  poco  aparte  mira   atento 
d  Guzman.) 

MACHIN. 

Senor  soldado  :  diga  por  su  vida 
<;  Por  aca  los  que  ganan  son  ingratos  ? 
<;  Suelen  vender  muy  caros  los  baratos  ? 

SOLDADO. 
Los  soldados  son  gente  muy  partida. 


162 


MACHIN. 

Esos  son  los  percances  de  un  criado, 
Que  esta  a  mirar  perpetuo  condenado. 

MIGUEL  (aparte}. 

Dicen  que  el  pastor  cuando  ha  perdido 
Alguna  oveja,  como  esta  advertido 
A  buscarla  no  mas,  se  la  semeja 
Cualquiera  voz,  balido  de  su  oveja. 
Que  a  ml  con  el  cuidado 
Que  mi  perdida  hermana  me  ha  causado, 
Cualquier  joven  que  viere,  en  quien  el  sello 
No  ponga  de  la  edad  al  rostro  el  vello, 
He  de  pensar  que  es  ella,  y  ya  el  deseo 
Comienza  a  ejecutallo  en  el  que  veo, 
Pues  no  solo  en  la  voz,  el  rostro  y  talle 
Me  parece  muger,  mas  me  parece, 
Que  las  facciones  que  su  rostro  ofrece 
Las  del   retrato  son  :  .quiero  miralla 
Unas  con  otras  partes  confiriendo ; 
Mas....  jqu£  locura  acreditar  pretendo ! 
Si  este  es  Alonso  de  Guzman  <;desecha 
No  deja  su  valor  cualquier  sospecha  ? 

•  GUZMAN  (aparte). 

Si  no  es  de  mi  temor  esta  advertencia 
Suspense,  atento,  cuidadoso  y  mudo, 

163 


Me  contempla  mi  hermano,  mas  no  pudo, 
Aunque  tenga  noticia  de  mi  historia, 
Conservar  de  mi  rostro  la  memoria, 
Las  especies  despues  de  tanta  ausencia ; 
Y  mas  haciendo  en  mf  tal  diferencia 
La  edad,  el  trage,  el  brio  y  el  estado : 
En  vano  me  desvela  este  cuidado. 

MIGUEL. 

Si  es  ella,  d  recatarse  ha  de  obligalla 
El  verme  pensativo  :  descuidalla 
Disimulando  importa,   que  ocasiones 
Me  daran  con  el  tiempo  sus  acciones, 
Yendo  con  advertencia, 
Con  que  de  la  sospecha  haga  evidencia. 
(Lldgase  d  jugar.) 

EL  CID. 
Mas,  al  caballo  cuatro  patacones. 

MIGUEL. 

Conmigo  van. 

EL  CID. 

j  Que"  presto  viene  el  siete  ! 
i  Que  juegue  yo  £  los  naipes?  j  voto  a  Cristo! 

MIGUEL. 

So  alfe"rez,  ,mo  me  paga? 

EL  CID. 

Estaba  visto. 
164 


MIGUEL. 

No  estaba. 

EL  CID. 
Yo  lo  digo, 
Y  basta. 

MIGUEL. 

^Pues  conmigo 
Habla  de  esa  manera  ? 

SOLDADO. 

No  se  espante 
Que  esta  perdiendo. 

MIGUEL. 

No  ha  de  ser  bastante 
Para  que  me  hable  a  mf  con  arrogancia. 

EL  CID. 

Aunque  no  pierda  puedo  yo  tenella. 
Porque  yo  soy..... 

MIGUEL. 

Para  conmigo  nada. 
EL  CID. 
Yo  soy  mejor  que  vos. 

GUZMAN. 

Mentis  villano. 

(Dale  con   la   daga  en  la  cabeza  Guzman 
al  Cid:  sacan  todos  las  espadas.) 

165 


EL   CID. 

La  lengua  he  de  cortaros  y  la  mano. 

MIGUEL. 

<iNo  tengo  espada  yo,  Guzman?  jqu£  es 

esto ! 

<:No  veis  que  es  agraviarme 
Vengarme  vos,  pudiendo  yo  v^ngarme  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Hecha  donde  yo  estoy  la  demasfa, 
Siempre  la  tomo  yo  por  cuenta  mia. 

MACHIN. 

Esto  es  hecho,  alld  va  la  Vizcaina, 
Que  nunca  vuelve  sin  hacer  cecina. 


ESCENA  VII. 

LOS  DICHOS,  EL  CASTELLANO  DEL 
CALLAO, 

(en  ciierpo  con  baston.) 

CASTELLANO. 

j  Soldados,  ola ! 


166 


SOLDADO. 

Este  es  el  Castellano. 

CASTELLANO. 

Tenganse  ;  6  j  vive  Dios  ! 

EL  CID. 

Obedeceros 
Es  fuerza. 

CASTELLANO. 

Envainen  luego  los  aceros. 
Y  cudntenme  que  es  esto. 

MIGUEL. 

Ya  no  es  nada, 

Sobre  palabras  desnude"  la  espada 
Con  el  alfe'rez....  (hdblale  en  secreto.) 

MACHIN. 

j  Buena  la  hemos  hecho ! 
GUZMAN  (aparte). 

No  pude  mas,  enfureci6me  el  pecho 
La  ofensa  de  mi  hermano  : 
Y  de  la  sangre  el  impetu  violento 
Me  arrebat6  el  primero  movimiento. 

CASTELLANO. 

Siendo  asi,  Nuevo  Cid,  dadle  la  mano, 
Que  con  sacar  la  espada  habeis  quedado 
Entrambos  bien. 

(Danse  la  mano  el  Nitevo  Cid  y  Miguel.} 

167 


EL   CID. 

La  mano  os  doy  de  amigo 

CASTELLANO. 

Tambien  la  habeis  de  dar  a  este  soldado  ; 

Porque  si  cuando  os  ofendi6  tenia 

La  daga  ya  en  la  mano,  caso  es  llano 

Que  nadie  a  su  enemigo 

Agravia  con  las  armas  en  la  mano. 

(Dale  la  mano  a  Guzman.) 
Y  si  hubo  en  ello  alguna  demasfa, 
Eso  es  lo  que  ha  de  obrar  mi  terceria. 

EL  CID. 
Vos  lo  mandais,   respondo  obedeciendo, 

(Aparte.) 

Que  sois  mi  superior  :  mas  yo  me  entiendo, 
Que  no  estoy  obligado, 
Sinti6ndome  agraviado, 
A  guardar  la  amistad  que  he  prometido. 

SOLDADO. 

Alferez,  «ivais  herido? 

EL  CID. 
Pienso  que  no.  (Vase.) 

SOLDADO. 

Debi6  de  dar  de  llano : 
Como  un  nabo  le  parte,  si  la  mano 
168 


Vuelve  de  filo  :  informacion  ha  hecho 

El  lampino  de  ser  de  pelo  en  pecho.  (Vase.) 

CASTELLANO. 

Agradezca  el  soldado 

Que  del  virey  me  vino  encomendado, 

Que  sino  yo  le  hiciera 

Con  un  trato  de  cuerda,  que  supiera 

Que  no  se  ha  de  arrojar  tan  atrevido 

A  perder  a  un  alfe>ez  el  respeto, 

Que  aunque  no  es  oficial  suyo,  en  efeto 

For  el  puesto  que  ocupa  le  es  debido. 

(A  Mac  kin.) 

Y  vos  mancebo,  que  tambien  inquieto 
Imitais  vuestro  dueno,  yo  os  prometo 
Si  dais  otra  ocasion,  que  os  de"  la  pena 
Escarmiento  colgado  de  una  almena.    (Vase.) 

ESCENA    VIII. 
GUZMAN  Y  MACHIN. 

MACHIN. 

Y  lo  hara,  vive  Dios,  como  lo  dice, 

Que  no  es  hombre  de  burla  el  Castellano. 

<jQu6  dices  tii,  senor  ? 

169 


GUZMAN. 

Que  ya  lo  hice, 

Y  que  gustosa  me  quedo  la  mano 
Del  coscorron  que  le  asente  de  llano  ; 
Pero  la  noche  viene,  y  el  dinero 
De  la  cadena  ha  dado  fin,  y  quiero, 
Pedir  otro  socorro  a  mi  Dona  Ana  : 
El  caballo  preven,  que  la  manana 
Nos  ha  de  hallar  de  vuelta  en  el  castillo. 

MACHIN. 

Yo  voy  a  prevenillo 
Alegre,  porque  ver  a  Ines  deseo, 
Y  triste  porque  veo, 
Que  me  lleva  en  sus  ancas  tu  caballo, 
Y  es  tal  la  matadura  y  tanto  el  callo, 
Que  tengo  ya  de  sus  trotonerfas 
Que  pienso  que  le  llevo  yo  en  las  mias. 

(Vanse.) 

ESCENA    IX. 
MIGUEL. 

Si  ofrecen  los  afectos  naturales 
De  la  oculta  verdad  claras  senales, 
170 


conjetura  6  prevencion  mas  liana 
De  que  es  esta  mi  hermana, 
Que  el  repentino  ardor  y  ciega  furia 
Con  que  dio  fuego  al  golpe  de  mi  injuria? 
Del  natural  amor  y  sentimiento 
Fue  aquel  involuntario  movimiento, 
Que  con  la  lengua  respondi6  y  la  mano, 
Al  soy  me/or  que  vos,  mentis  villano  : 
Mas  con  otra  esperiencia, 
Tengo  de  confirmar  por  evidencia 
Mi  sospecha,  y  podre"  determinarme 
Sin  declarar  mi  afrenta,  a  declararme. 

(Vase.) 

ESCENA    X. 
DOftA  ANA  6  INKS  (A  la  ventana). 

DOftA   ANA. 

Ya  no  bastan  las  prisiones 

De  mi  honor  y  de  mi  fama, 

A  oprimir  la  ardiente  llama 

De  mis  resueltas  pasiones. 

Y  en  esto  por  cosa  liana 

Tengo,   Ines,  que  ha  de  afrentarme 

171 


Mas,  en  priblico  casarme, 
Que  en  secreto  ser  villana 
Que  si  Alonso  de  Guzman 
Es  en  Lima  forastero, 
A  quien  su  brazo  y  acero 
Solamente  nombre  dan  : 
Que  su  sangre,  y  nacimiento, 
Y  su  calidad,  se  ignora, 
Cuando  mis  desdenes  llora 
Y  aspira  a  mi  casamiento 
El  noble  Don  Diego  en  vano, 
Claro  esta  que  era  buscar 
Mi  afrenta  publica,  dar 
De  esposa  a  Guzman  la  mano. 
Y  asi  pues  muero  de  amor, 
Resuelvo  comprar  la  vida 
Con  prenda  que  no  es  perdida 
Mientras  se  oculta  el  error. 

INES. 

Tanto  te  he  visto  penar 
Que  vence  de  tu  tormento 
La  piedad,  al  sentimiento 
De  verte  asi  despenar; 
Y  ya  que  a  tan  ciego  efeto 

Llegas  a  determinarte, 
172 


Confia,  que  he  de  ayudarte 
Con  lealtad  y  con  secreto. 

DONA   ANA. 

A  lo  mucho  que  te  quiero 
Responde  tu  obligacion. 

INES. 
Gente  viene. 

DONA   ANA. 

El  corazon 
Me  dice  que  es  el  que  espero. 


ESCENA  XI. 

DONA   ANA,    INES,   GUZMAN   Y 
MACHIN. 

(Las  primer  as  en  la  ventana,  y  los  tiltimos 
en  la  calle.) 

MACHIN. 

Valgate  el  diablo  el  rocin 
Y  lo  que  me  ha  batanado. 

GUZMAN. 

Tu  eres  para  enamorado 
Muy  delicado,  Machin  : 


Pero  ya  es  hora  de  ver 
A  mi  querida  Dona  Ana, 
Quiero  hacer  a  la  ventana 
La  sena. 

DONA    ANA. 

No  es  menester. 

GUZMAN. 

<?  Aqui  estas  hermoso  duefto  ? 
Mi  cuidado  previniste. 

DONA   ANA. 

El  pecho  en  que  amor  asiste 
Da  breve  tribute  al  sueno. 

GUZMAN. 

Tu  desvelo  ha  adivinado 

La  necesidad  que  tengo 

De  abreviar  puntos,  que  vengo 

En  confianza  obligado, 

A  que  la  aurora  ha  de  hallarme 

En  mi  prision. 

DONA   ANA. 

^  Estas  preso? 

GUZMAN. 

Hice,  senora,  un  esceso 
Que  pienso  que  ha  de  costarme 
Cuidado  y  desasosiego, 
174        Y  dinero. 


MACHIN  (aparte). 
Dispar6. 

DONA   ANA. 

Cuanta  hacienda  tengo  yo 
Tienes  por  tuya. 

MACHIN  (aparte). 

Di6  fuego. 

GUZMAN. 

Pienso  que  me  has  de  obligar 
A  ser  cobarde  con  eso, 
Si  en  haciendo  yo  el  esceso 
Tii,  mi  bien,  lo  has  de  pagar. 

DONA   ANA. 

Yo  estoy,  Guzman,  con  temor 
De  que  en  la  calle  te  vean, 
Que  hay  muchos  que  la  pasean 
Desvelados  de  otro  amor. 

GUZMAN. 

<;Tan  apriesa  me  despides? 

DONA   ANA. 

No  despido,  antes  te  pido 
Que  no  pongas  en  olvido 
Los  favores  que  me  pides. 

GUZMAN. 

Me>ito  es  la  cobardia, 
Siendo  tan  alta  la  empresa. 


DONA    ANA. 

Sin  me*ritos  se  confiesa 
Quien  amando  desconfia ; 
Y  yo  que  conozco  en  tf 
Lo  que  bastara  a  vencerme, 
Resuelvo  que  entres  a  verme 
Para  confesarlo  asi ; 
Y  para  que  la  ocasion    * 
Evite,  que  puedes  dar 
En  la  calle  de  infamar 
De  liviana  mi  opinion. 

GUZMAN. 

Favor  tan  no  merecido 
Ya  lo  toco,  y  no  lo  creo, 
Que  aun  ocultando  el  deseo 
Lo  acusaba  de  atrevido. 
Solo  temo,  hermoso  dueno, 
Tu  peligro  en  mi  ventura. 

DONA   ANA. 

La  oscuridad  me  asegura 
Y  a  mi  padre  ocupa  el  suefto. 
Con  silencio  a  paso  lento 
For  tinieblas  seguiras 
Mis  plantas,  y  llegaras 
Sin  peligro  a  mi  aposento. 
176 


GUZMAN. 

Ya  con  la  gloria  que  espero, 
Un  punto  d  mil  siglos  pasa. 

DONA    ANA. 

Voy  a  disponer  la  casa, 
Que  matar  las  luces  quiero 
Para  mas  seguridad. 
Aguardame  tii  y  Machin 
A  la  puerta. 

(Vanse  Dona  Ana  4  Ines.) 


ESCENA  XII. 
GUZMAN   Y   MACHIN. 

MACHIN. 

Aqui  di6  fin 
El  voto  de  castidad. 
For  Dios  que  he  de  ver  agora 
Si  aguardas  dispensacion 
A  oscuras,  y  en  la  ocasion, 
Con  quien  amas,  y  te  adora. 

p  177 


GUZMAN. 

,;  Luego  yo  me  he  de  poner 
En  el  peligro  ? 

MACHIN. 

Pues  ya : 

Cuando  la  ocasion  esta 
En  tus  manos,  «<qu£  has  de  hacer  ? 

GUZMAN. 
El  remedio  es  no  aguardalla. 

MACHIN. 

Es  agravio  declarado. 

GUZMAN. 

Con  lo  mismo  que  has  pensado 
Que  la  ofendo,  he  de  obligalla. 

MACHIN. 
<;C6mo  ? 

GUZMAN. 

El  secreto  y  recato 
Es  la  primer  condicion, 
Que  ha  puesto  a  mi  pretension ; 
Pues  en  este  breve  rato, 
Que  tarda  en  abrir,  dire 
Que  vino  gente  a  la  calle 
Y  que  yo  por  no  arriesgalle 
La  opinion,  me  retire"  ; 


Y  que  mostrando  celosa 
Curiosidad  me  siguieron, 
Y  alcanzandome  quisieron 
Conocerme,  y  fue  forzosa 
Mi  resistencia,  y  asi 
Dur6  la  marcial  porfla, 
Hasta  que  la  luz  del  dia 
Nos  puso  en  paz,  y  de  aquf 
Levantare*  una  pendencia 
Por  zelos,  con  que  ni  deje 
Ocasion,  de  que  se  queje 
Dona  Ana  de  aquella  ausencia, 
Ni  tenga  por  mal  partido 
Poderme  desenojar. 

MACHIN. 

Gente  viene  alii. 

GUZMAN. 

Ayudar 

Mis  intentos  ban  querido 
Los  cielos  con  la  verdad, 
Ven. 

MACHIN. 

Por  ti  pierdo  a  Ines, 
De  participantes  es 
Tu  voto  de  castidad.  (Vanse.) 

179 


ESCENA   XIII. 
DON    DIEGO   Y   DON    JUAN. 

(Es  de  noche,  Don  Diego  saca  los  guantes 
de  Guzman.) 

DON    JUAN. 

Parece  que  se  retiran 
De  la  calle  con  cuidado, 
Pues  recelo  os  han  causado 
Sepamos  por  quien  suspiran. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Aunque  intentemos  seguillos, 
Es  imposible  alcanzallos, 
Y  pues  los  zelos  es  dallos 
Mucho  mejor  que  pedillos, 
Guardemos  la  puerta  y  calle 
De  Dona  Ana,  y  ellos  vengan. 
Dado  caso  que  los  tengan 
Por  agravio  a  averigualle : 
Pues  de  creer  es  de  que  aspiran 
Si  no  vuelven  a  otro  amor, 
O  he  de  quedar  superior 
Si  ofendidos  se  retiran. 
1 80 


DON    JUAN. 

Bien  decis. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Don  Juan,  callad, 
Que  la  puerta  de  Dona  Ana 
Siento  abrir. 

DON    JUAN. 

No  ha  sido  vana 
Vuestra  sospecha. 


ESCENA  XIV. 

DON  DIEGO,  DON  JUAN,  DONA 

ANA. 

(Asdmase  Dona  Ana  al  pano^  toma  la  mano 
a  Don  Diego,  y  este  la  da  d  Don  Juan, 
y  van  por  el  teatro  como  d  oscuras  ;  Don 
Diego  se  quita  los  guantes  y  los  pone  en 
la  guarnicion  de  la  espada.) 

DONA    ANA. 

Llegad, 

Dadme  la  mano,  y  con  tiento 
Seguid  mis  pasos  los  dos. 

181 


DON  DIEGO  (aparte). 
La  que  adoro  es,  vive  Dios  : 
Gozar  la  ocasion  intento. 

DON  JUAN  (aparte). 
\  Notable  engano ! 

DON  DIEGO  (aparte). 

<iQu6  dudo? 

Hoy  tomo  justa  venganza, 
Y  amor  enganado  alcanza, 
Lo  que  obligado  no  pudo. 

DON    JUAN. 

La  perdida  ocasion  es 
De  los  cobardes  que  huyeron ; 
Y  pienso,  pues  la  perdieron, 
Llevar  de  barato  d  Ines.  (Vanse.} 


ESCENA   XV. 

MIGUEL,   Y    TEODORA   (de    ramera   en 
chine  las]. 

TEODORA. 

Como  te  digo  enganada 
Me  trae  toda  la  vida, 
182 


Si  ha  hecho  voto,  6  no  ha  hecho 

voto, 

Y  de  la  romana  silla 
La  relajacion  aguarda ; 
Y  dilatando  los  dias, 
Trae  mi  deseo  enganado, 
Mi  libertad  oprimida. 
Yo  en  tu  valor  confiada 
Con  semejante  desdicha 
Espero  con  confianza, 
Que  del  rigor  de  su  ira 
Me  libres,  siendo  sagrado 
De  mi  libertad  cautiva. 

MIGUEL. 

Yo  te  lo  ofrezco,  no  temas, 
Que  estando  por  cuenta  mia, 
No  se  atrevera  a  ofenderte. 

TEODORA. 

Tu,  alfe"rez,  le  notifica 

Mi  intento,  que  el  fin  del  caso 

Quiero  aguardar  escondida.  (Vase.] 


183 


ESCENA  XVI. 
MIGUEL. 

<|Que  falta  para  que  entienda 
Que  es  mi  hermana  Catalina, 
Este  fingido  Guzman? 
jQue  un  mozo  d  quien  solicitan 
La  ocasion,  bella  muger, 
Y  la  edad  mas  encendida. 
For  el  voto,  no  es  creible 
Que  a  los  impulses  resista 
De  los  deleites  de  Venus  ; 
Y  mas  cuando  de  su  vida 
En  lo  demas  sus  costumbres, 
De  santo  no  le  acreditan ! 
Pues  si  con  esto  se  juntan 
La  natural  simpatia 
Con  que  mi  ofensa  sinti6, 
Si  el  retrato  lo  confirma, 
Si  Teodora  con  no  estar 
De  esta  sospecha  advertida 
Dice,  que  no  sabe  en  qu£ 
Nuestros  rostros  simbolizan, 
<[Que  indicios  mas  evidentes, 
184 


senales  mas  precisas 
Para  resolverme  espero? 

ESCENA  XVII. 
MIGUEL,   GUZMAN   Y   MACHIN. 

GUZMAN. 

Pon  al  caballo  la  silla 
Mientras  escribo  a  Dona  Ana 
La  ocasiones  fingidas 
De  la  que  perdi  esta  noche. 

MACHIN. 

Entre  amores  y  mentiras, 
Toca  el  punto  del  dinero, 
Vende  caras  tus  caricias, 
Ya  que  me  obligas  a  ser 
Lanzadera  de  aqui  a  Lima.  ( Vase.} 

ESCENA   XVIII. 
MIGUEL  Y   GUZMAN. 

MIGUEL  (aparte). 
Ya  que  a  solas  he  quedado 
Pues  la  ocasion  me  convida, 

185 


Saldre  de  esta  confusion  ; 

(A  Guzman.) 
Guzman  a  buscaros  iba. 

GUZMAN. 

<r  Hay  en  que*  os  sirva  ? 

MIGUEL. 

El  alf<6rez 

Que  agraviado  se  imagina^ 
Dice,  que  la  mano  di6 
Forzado  de  quien  podia 
Mandarlo,  a  las  amistades 
En  tal  caso  no  le  obligan  ; 
Y  para  satisfacerse 
Dos  a  dos  nos  desafia, 
Y  en  el  campo  nos  aguarda. 

GUZMAN. 

En  poco  tiene  la  vida  : 
Vamos  presto,  no  atribuya 
La  tardanza  a  cobardia. 

MIGUEL. 

Seguidme  que  no  es  tan  lejos. 

(Aparte.) 

i  C6mo  es  posible  que  viva 
En  un  pecho  mugeril 
Tan  varonil  osadfa, 
186 


Si  cuantos  espada  empunan 
En  la  guerra  y  paz  afirman, 
Que  salir  a  un  desaflo 
Es  la  mayor  valenda? 
Mas  si  cuentan  las  historias, 
Ya  modernas,  y  ya  antiguas 
Tantas  matronas,  jamas 
De  humanas  fuerzas  vencidas, 
<;  Que  mucho  que  las  iguale 
Una  muger  vizcaina, 
Engendrada  entre  las  duras 
Montanas  que  el  hierro  crian? 

GUZMAN. 

<;  D6nde  estan  nuestros  contraries  ? 
Que  largo  trecho  la  vista 
Del  campo  raso  descubre, 
Y  no  parecen. 

MIGUEL. 

For  dicha 
No  han  llegado  ;  el  sitio  es  este. 

GUZMAN  (aparte). 
Recelos  me  solicitan 
De  algun  enganoso  intento 
De  mi  hermano,  que  la  misma 
Conciencia,  aunque  nadie  pudo 


De  quien  soy  darle  noticias, 
En  la  mayor  confianza 
Me  acusa  y  atemoriza, 
Pero  no  he  de  declararme 
Aunque  me  cueste  la  vida. 

MIGUEL  (aparte). 
Usar  quiero  de  cautela 
Que  si  no  es  quien  imagina 
Mi  pecho,  no  me  esta  bien 
Que  sepa  la  afrenta  mia ; 

(A  Guzman.) 
Cansado  vengo  de  andar 
For  esta  playa  arenisca : 
Asent&nonos  pues  tarda, 
(Sie'ntanse,  Miguel  d  una  parte  del  teatro, 
y  Guzman  d  otra  lejos  de  41.) 
El  Nuevo  Cid. 

GUZMAN. 

Poco  estima 
Su  opinion,  pues  tanto  tarda. 

MIGUEL  (aparte). 
Con  cuidado  se  retira 
De  mi,  cierta  es  mi  sospecha, 
Su  recelo  la  confirma. 
(A  Guzman. ) 
188 


,;  Porqu6  os  asentais  tan  lejos  ? 
Que  mientras  vienen  querria, 
Que  vuestra  patria,  y  discurso 
Me  conteis  de  vuestra  vida. 

GUZMAN. 

Desde  aquf  os  la  contare" 
Que  esta  pefia  me  con  vida 
Con  asiento  acomodado. 

MIGUEL. 

El  ruido  que  en  la  orilla 
Del  mar,  forma  la  resaca 
En  las  pefias,  combatidas, 
Nuestras  voces  desvanece, 
Y  d  hablar  a  gritos  obliga 
Para  entendernos ;  mas  yo 
Quiero  que  esta  cortesia 
Me  debais — 

(Levdntase,  va  hacia  Guzman,  y  este  empuna 

la  espada.) 

GUZMAN. 

Teneos,  alfe*rez. 

MIGUEL. 

<;  Qu£  haceis,  Guzman  ? 
GUZMAN. 

No  prosigan 


Vuestros  pies :  no  os  acerqueis, 
Porque  os  quitar6  la  vida. 

MIGUEL. 

^De  mi  os  recelais? 

GUZMAN. 

Si  he  hecho 

En  Espafia,  y  en  las  Indias 
Mil  escesos,  mil  injurias, 
Y  agravios  mil,  £qu&  os  admira ; 
Que  me  recele,  de  quien 
No  conozco  si  podria 
Tocaros  en  sangre  alguna 
Persona  de  mi  ofendida  ? 
Y  mas  cuando  contra  vos 
Esta  sospecha  acredita 
Del  Nuevo  Cid  la  tardanza : 
i  Que  s6  yo,  si  como  mira 
Los  escrupulos  del  duelo 
Tan  curiosa  la  malicia, 
Os  ofendisteis  de  mi 
Cuando  pens£  que  os  servia, 
Vengando  en  el  vuestria  injuria ! 
Pues  en  la  pendencia  misma 
De  este  sentimiento  disteis 
Senales  tan  conocidas. 
190 


MIGUEL. 

Guzman,  Guzman,  todas  esas 
Son  ficciones  que  fabrica 
Para  ocultar  la  verdad 
Vuestro  pecho,  que  imagina 
Que  la  ignore  ;  hablemos  claros, 
Yo  tengo  cierta  noticia 
De  vuestro  mentido  trage, 
De  Vizcaya  me  lo  avisan, 
Con  senas,  y  con  retratos, 
Que  vuestro  engafio  averiguan  ; 
Aqui  los  truje,  que  quiero 
Que  entre  los  dos  se  decida 
El  remedio  con  secreto : 
Poned  en  esto  la  mira 
Sin  perder  tiempo  en  negar, 
Lo  que  a  no  ser  tan  precisas 
Las  probanzas  que  lo  muestran, 
Vuestros  temores  publican. 

GUZMAN. 

No  entiendo  vuestros  intentos, 
Ni  alcanzo  vuestros  enigmas  : 
Mas  pues  las  razones  muestran, 
Que  vuestro  pecho  delira, 
Quiero  dejaros  por  loco. 
(Quiere  irse  y  le  detiene.) 


MIGUEL. 

Vuelve,  vuelve,  Catalina, 
Que  no  te  he  sacado  aqui 
Para  dejar  indecisa 
La  cuestion  :  yo  estoy  resuelto 
A  que  desta  playa  misma, 
Sin  plazos,  ni  dilaciones, 
En  un  convento  de  Lima 
He  de  partir  a  encerrarte, 
O  he  de  quitarte  la  vida, 
Porque  no  hagas  mas  afrenta 
A  la  nacion  vizcaina. 

GUZMAN  (aparte). 
Ya  se  declard,  perdone 
La  sangre,  que  solo  estriba 
En  el  acero  el  remedio. 

(A  Miguel) 

Sospecho  que  se  os  olvidan 
Las  hazafias  de  este  brazo, 
Pues  con  tan  loca  osadia 
Nombre  de  muger  me  dais ; 
Y  si  a  provocar  mi  ira 
No  bastara  la  violencia 
Que  pretendeis,  bastaria 
Solo  este  agravio  d  vengarme 
192 


Y  d  que  el  fuerte  acero  esgrima. 

(Acuchttlanse?) 

Para  mostraros  que  es  hombre 
Y  mas  que  hombre  quien  fulmina 
Rayos,  que  espantan  al  cielo 
Y  que  la  tierra  castigan. 
(Cae  herido  Miguel?) 

MIGUEL. 

Tente,  tente,  que  me  has  muerto. 

GUZMAN  (aparte). 
\  Ay  de  mi !  ya  me  lastima 
El  amor  de  hermano. 

(A  Miguel?] 
Ponte 

En  mis  hombros,  y  a  esa  ermita 
Te  llevare*  a  confesar. 

(Cdgele  en  hombros) 
Que  el  ser  cristiano  me  obliga 
A  que  con  piadoso  afecto 
El  remedio  te  aperciba 

(Aparte?) 

Del  alma  ;  j  ojald  pudiera 
Darle   tambien  a  la  vida ! 

FIN    DE    LA   JORNADA    PRIMERA. 

Q  193 


JORNADA   II. 

ESCENA   I. 
MACHIN    £    INKS. 

(Machin  con  botas  y  espuelas,  Ines  con  manto 
y  una  carta  en  la  mano  qiie  da  d  Machin.) 

INES. 

Esta,  Machin,  es  la  carta 
Para  tu  seftor. 

MACHIN. 

Ines 

Solo  falta  que  me  des, 
Para  que  aliviado  parta 
Esos  brazos. 

INES. 

Yo  os  los  doy 
Con  el  alma. 

MACHIN. 


Aprieta  mas. 
ss. 
<?A1  fin  d  Chile  te  vas? 


INES. 


MACHIN. 

Al  fin  a  Chile  me  voy 
A  ser  nuevo  paladin  : 
Mas  tente  que  si  el  amor 
No  me  engafia,  es  mi  sefior 
El  que  estoy  viendo. 


ESCENA   II. 
GUZMAN,   MACHIN    £    INKS. 

GUZMAN. 

j  Machin ! 

MACHIN. 

^  Es  posible  que  te  veo, 
Sefior  de  mi  vida? 
GUZMAN. 

Ines, 
^  No  me  abrazas  ? 

INES. 

Con  los  pies 
Satisfaces  mi  deseo : 
A  ganar  de  mi  seftora 
Las  albricias  voy  volando. 
196 


GUZMAN. 

Espera,   Ines,  dime  cuando 
La  podre"  ver — 
INES. 

No  hay  agora 

Quien  lo  impida,  que  la  muerte 
Sepulta  a  su  padre  ya  ; 
Y  la  suya  solo  esta, 
En  la  dilacion  de  verte. 
Ven  conmigo.     (Vase.) 

GUZMAN. 

Ya  te  sigo. 


ESCENA  III. 
GUZMAN  Y  MACHIN. 

MACHIN. 

Esta  carta  te  escribia 
Dona  Ana,  y  hoy  me  partia 
A  Chile  a  buscar  contigo 
La  vida,  6  sin  tf  la  muerte. 
(Dale  la  carta,  y  Guzman  la  abre  y  la  lee.) 

197 


GUZMAN. 

Yo  me  confieso  obligado 
De  tu  amor. 

MACHIN 

Yo  lo  he  quedado 
De  tu  venida  a  la  suerte, 
Pues  que  te  dije  del  trote 
De  un  rocin  :  mas,  senor,  di, 
<?  Pasan  los  dias  por  ti  ? 
Con  un  palmo  de  bigote 
Te  imaginaba,  <;y  te  vienes 
Tras  la  ausencia  de  tres  afios, 
Calvo  de  barba?  <jqu6  banos, 
Que"  ungiientos,  qu6  drogas  tienes 
Para  no  barbar  ?  que  quiero 
Verme  libre  de  una  vez, 
De  irle  d  entregar  la  nuez, 
Cada  semana  d  un  barbero. 

GUZMAN. 

Machin,  si  tengo  de  hacello, 
Prociiralo  merecer, 
Porque  no  lo  has  de  saber 
Mientras  me  tratares  dello. 

MACHIN. 

^  De  modo,  que  lo  diras 
Si  no  lo  pregunto  ? 


GUZMAN. 

SL 
MACHIN. 

Pues  digo  que  desde  aqui 
No  lo  pregunto  jamas  ; 
Pero  ya  tu  hermosa  amante 
A  recibirte  se  ofrece. 


ESCENA   IV. 

GUZMAN,    MACHIN,    DOfiA    ANA    6 
INKS. 

(Guzman  va  d  abrazar  d  Dona  Ana,  y  esta 
le  deliene.) 

GUZMAN. 

Si  tus  abrazos  merece 
Senora,  un  amor  constante. . . . 

DONA   ANA. 

Detente,  Guzman. 

GUZMAN. 

<•  Qu^  es  esto  ? 

DONA    ANA. 

Solos  nos  dejad  los  dos. 

199 


INKS. 

Vamos,   Machin. 

MACHIN. 

Vive  Dios, 

Que  la  larga  ausencia  ha  puesto 
Muy  mal  acondicionado 
Este  juro,  y  no  querria, 
Que  tii  tambien,   Ines  mfa, 
La  finca  hubieses  mudado.    (Vanse.) 


ESCENA  V. 
GUZMAN,    DOftA  ANA. 

GUZMAN. 

Ya  estamos  solos  agora, 
,;  Podr£  merecer  los  brazos, 
Cuyos  amorosos  lazos 
Firmemente  el  alma  adora, 
Tras  tanta  ausencia  Dona  Ana? 

DONA   ANA. 

Escucha  primero  el  dafio 
De  que  fue  causa  un  engafio, 
La  noche  que  a  la  ventana 
200 


Te  hable\  que  fue  la  postrera 

De  tu  vista,  y  mi  contento, 

Como  fue  de  mi  tormento, 

Y  tu  agravio  la  primera : 

Que  puesto  que  me  has  escrito 

For  disculpa,  que  el  respeto 

De  mi  fama,   y  el  secreto 

De  tu  amor,  caus6  el  delito 

De  no  aguardar  la  ocasion 

De  entrarme  a  ver,  porque  habia 

Gente  en  la  calle,  y  seria 

Atropellar  mi  opinion. 

Yo,  porque  no  es  bien  fiar 

Tan  grave  caso  a  un  papel, 

No  quise  decirte  en  e"! 

Lo  que  agora  has  de  escuchar  : 

Porque  el  remedio  te  toca, 

Como  en  el  caso  verds, 

Que  de  otra  suerte  jamas 

Rompiera  el  sello  a  la  boca. 

GUZMAN. 

Senora,  el  siguiente  dia 
De  esta  noche  que  por  tf, 
Y  por  tu  opinion  perdi 
La  ocasion,  que  el  alma  mia 

201 


Tan  largo  tiempo  ha  llorado, 
Sali  al  campo  con  Miguel 
De  Erauso,  y  rifiendo  en  e*l, 
Fue  el  alfe"rez  desdichado 
Mas  que  yo,  pues  de  una  herida 
Penetrante  que  le  di, 
Entre  la  sangre  le  vf 
Casi  despedir  la  vida. 
Deste  suceso  obligado 
Me  parti  solo,  y  a  pie 
Desde  alii,  que  ni  avise* 
A  Machin  este  criado, 
Que  es  mi  compafiero  fiel 
En  los  bienes  y  en  los  dafios, 
Causa  de  que  estos  tres  afios 
Haya  vivido  sin  61 
En  Arauco,  a  donde  huyendo 
Llegu6  al  fin  y  no  escribi, 
Senora,  a  Machin,  ni  a  ti 
En  muchos  meses,  temiendo 
Que  descubrirme  podrian 
Las  cartas,  que  los  discretes 
Nunca  importantes  secretes 
De  fragil  nema  confian ; 
Hasta  que  despues  sabiendo 

3O2 


Que  sanando  de  la  herida 
Miguel  de  Erauso,  y  la  vida 
De  una  enfermedad  perdiendo, 
Llegue",   Dona  Ana,  a  tener 
Seguridad,  y  con  esto 
Me  dispuse  lo  mas  presto 
Que  pude  venirte  a  ver. 
Estos  han  sido  los  pasos 
De  mi  ausencia  y  mis  enojos, 
Que  la  gloria  de  tus  ojos 
Me  han  impedido  estos  casos. 
Cuenta  agora  confiada 
Los   tuyos,  pues  ofrecida 
Tengo  d  tu  gusto  la  vida, 
Y  a  tu  defensa  la  espada. 

DONA   ANA. 

Despues  que  de  la  ventana 
Me  aparte",  Guzman,  y  muertas 
Las  luces,  mi  casa  toda 
Ocuparon  las  tinieblas. 
A  cumplir  lo  concertado 
Contigo,  volvi  a  la  puerta 
De  la  calle,  abrf,  y  dos  hombres 
Halle*  parados  en  ella. 
Tu,  y  Machin,  trades  dos  ; 

203 


<jQui£n  recelarse  pudiera, 
Si  en  el  niimero  conforman, 
Y  en  aguardarme  concuerdan  ? 
Dame  la  mano,  y  los  dos 
Me  seguid,  dije,  y  apenas 
Lo  pronunciaron  los  labios, 
Cuando  tan  callados  llegan 
Me  dan  la  mano  y  me  siguen, 
Que  si  mil  causas  tuviera 
De  recelarme,  esto  solo 
Desmintiera  las  sospechas. 
Mientras  las  confusas  sombras, 
Hasta  mi  cuarto  penetran, 
La  oscuridad  y  el  silencio 
Sus  enganos  lisonjean. 
A  mi  retrete  llegamos, 
Cierro  muy  quedo  la  puerta, 
Y  el  que  tengo  por  mi  dueno 
Dentro  conmigo  se  queda, 
Dejando  al  que  imaginaba 
Que  era  tu  criado,  fuera 
Con  Ines,  por  darle  a  solas 
A  nuestro  amor  mas  licencia. 
El  traidor  nada  cobarde, 
Las  persuasiones  empieza 
204 


For  las  obras,  y  a  las  manos 
Da  el  oficio  de  la  lengua  : 
Es  verdad  que  me  tenia 
El  amor  tuyo  tan  ciega, 
Que  fuera  en  mi  rendimiento 
Fingida  la  resistencia  : 
Mas  al  abrazo  primero 
Su  persona  corpulenta, 
De  la  tuya  delicada 
Me  ofrecio  la  diferencia, 
Y  para  certificarme 
T6cole  el  rostro,  y  las  senas 
Varoniles  hallo  en  el, 
Que  tu  poca  edad  te  niega. 
Entonces  j  ay  desdichada  ! 
Cada  vez  que  se  me  acuerda, 
Entre  nuevas  turbaciones, 
Faltan  al  pecho  las  fuerzas ; 
Como  a  la  misera  nave 
En  la  confusa  tormenta 
Mortal   naufragio  amenazan, 
Ya  las  olas  ya  las  pefias, 
Encontrados  pareceres 
Me  animan  y  me  refrenan  : 
Cada  vez  mas  afligida, 

205 


Cada  vez  menos  resuelta, 
Si  me  doy  por  entendida 
Del  engafio  ha  de  ser  fuerza 
Resistir,  y  aunque  aventure 
La  vida  en  la  resistencia 
Que  rendirme  confesando 
Que  no  lo  conozco,  fuera 
Consintiendo  mi  deshonrk 
Confesarle  mi  flaqueza. 
Si  resisto,  si  doy  voces, 
Si  llamo  d  mi  padre,  es  cierta, 
Como  su  agravio,  mi  muerte, 
Como  mi  culpa  su  afrenta ; 
Demas  que  su  edad  caduca, 
Y  en  sus  ya  d^biles  fuerzas, 
Dos  hombres,  cuya  osadia 
Se  conoce  en  la  que  intentan, 
^Qu6  muerte  no  ejecutaran? 
Y  mas  donde  las  tinieblas 
Facilitan  su  delito, 
Y  aseguran  su  defensa. 
Al  fin  tras  discursos  varies, 
Si  discurre  quien  se  anega, 
Y  camina  quien  sin  luz 
Tropieza  en  troncos  y  penas  ; 
206 


For  menor  dano  tuvieron 

Mis  temores,  que  me  hiciera 

No  entendida  del  engano, 

Que  entendida  de  la  ofensa  : 

Que  no  pudiendo  vengarla, 

Pierde  menos  quien  se  muestra, 

Ignorante  con  disculpa, 

Que  sentido  con  afrenta. 

Y  asi  para  dar  color 

De  virtud  a  mi  flaqueza, 

Mintiendo  amorosos  gustos, 

Fingiendo  palabras  tiernas, 

Y  llamandole  mi  esposo, 

Legitim£  la  licencia 

De  entregarle  de  mi  honor 

La  posesion  que  desea. 

Mas  como  aquel  que  a  la  orilla 

Del  Hondo  lago  forceja, 

Con  las  procelosas  aguas 

Entre  la  muerte  conserva 

El  cuidado  de  la  vida, 

Y  un  junco  6  rama  pequena 

Ansioso  prende,  librando 

El  postrer  remedio  en  ella: 

Asi  yo  entre  las  congojas, 

207 


Entre  las  ansias  y  penas, 
De  la  muerte  de  mi  honor, 
Al  agresor  de  mi  afrenta, 
Para  poder  conocerlo, 
Para  sefial  de  la  deuda, 
Para  testigo  del  dano, 
Quitar  procuro  una  prenda. 
La  turbacion,  el  recato,  «• 
Y  el  temor  de  que  entendiera 
Mi  intencion,  no  permitieron 
Mas  curiosa  diligencia 
De  la  que  basto,  a  quitarle 
Unos  guantes,  porque  es  fuerza 
Contentarse  con  la  suerte, 
Donde  la  eleccion  se  niega. 
Mas  por  aumentar  mis  males 
Te  obligo  mi  suerte  adversa 
A  ausentarte  de  este  reino 
Antes  que  a  verme  volvieras, 
Siendo  el  silencio  forzoso 
Hasta  verte,  porque  fueran 
Tres  siglos  de  infierno  mio 
Los  tres  afios  de  tu  ausencia. 

(Muestra  los  guantes.) 
Estos,  Guzman,  son  los  guantes 
208 


Si  conocerlos  confiesas, 

Y  del  donatario  aleve 

A  quien  los  distes  te  acuerdas  ; 

Si  no  pretendes  sufriendo 

Tan  claro  agravio,  que  entienda 

Que  fuiste  complice  injusto 

De  su  engafio,  y  de  mi  afrenta, 

Su  castigo,  mi  remedio, 

Y  tu  venganza,  prevenga 

Tu  valor,  que  nunca  supo 

Sufrir  livianas  ofensas  ; 

Pues  fue  ladron  de  tu  gloria, 

Y  causador  de  mi  pena, 

Y  siendo  yo  tuya,  corren 

Mis  agravios  por  tu  cuenta. 

GUZMAN  (aparte]. 
Don  Diego  sin  duda  fue 
El  agresor,  bien  lo  prueban 
Los  guantes,  y  ser  amante 
De  Dona  Ana,   que  ni  fuera 
De  su  puerta  y  de  su  calle 
A  tal  hora  centinela, 
Ni  emprendiera  tal  esceso, 
Sino  que  amor  le  tuviera ; 
Y  si  supo  que  me  hacia     . 

R  309 


A   mi  el  agravio,  me  fuerza 
Mas  que  a  remediar  el  dafio, 
A  vengarme  de  la  ofensa. 

(A  Dona  Ana.) 
Dona  Ana,  sola  una  cosa, 
Para  que  el  modo  resuelva 
Del  remedio,  6  la  venganza, 
Es  forzoso  que  me  adviertas. 
I  Nombrasteme  aquella  noche  ? 
I  El  ladron  de  tu  belleza 
Pudo  entender  que  era  yo 
A  quien  hurtaba  tus  prendas  ? 

DONA    ANA. 

No  me  acuerdo,  si  primero 
Que  el  engano  conociera 
Te  nombre\   que  como  estaba 
De  tan  gran  traicion  agena, 
Quito  la  seguridad 
Como  el  cuidado  a  la   lengua, 
La  atencion  a  la  memoria  : 
Pero  despues,  yo  estoy  cierta 
De  que  tu  nombre  oculte", 
Y  con  la  misma  advertencia 
Ines,  en  desconociendo 
El  companero,   refrena 
210 


Los  labios,  no  s6  si  fue 
De  medrosa  6  de  discreta. 

GUZMAN. 

Dame  los  guantes,  y  fia 

Que  ban  de  faltar  las  estrellas 

A  la  noche,  luz  al  sol, 

Agua  al  mar,  centro  a  la  tierra, 

O  has  de  ver,  aunque  al  traidor 

El  mismo  infierno  defienda, 

Su  castigo  ejecutado, 

O  tu  opinion  satisfecha. 

DONA  ANA  (ddndole  los  guantes). 

Dime  ±  qui6n  es  mi  enemigo  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Primero  quiero  que  sepas 
De  mi  valor  el  efeto, 
Que  el  causador  de  tu  afrenta ; 
Porque,  segun  lo  deseo, 
De  ti  misma  se  recela 
Mi  pecho  y  la  confianza 
De  este  secreto  te  niega, 
Porque  no  llegue  primero 
Que  la  ejecucion,  la  nueva 
De  mi  enojo  a  los  oidos 
De  quien  vengarte  deseas. 

211 


DONA    ANA. 

Prevencion  es  de  tu  amor, 
Y  de  tu  valor  fineza. 

GUZMAN. 

Mas  debo  a  la  confianza 

Con  que  tu  honor  me  encomiendas. 

(Vanse.) 

* 

ESCENA  VI. 
DON  DIEGO  Y  DON  JUAN. 

DON    JUAN. 

Tanto  admiro  que  constante 
Tres  anos  la  hayas  querido, 
Como  que  no  hayas  podido 
Descubrir  quien  fue  el  amante 
Que  aquella  noche  esperaba. 

DON  DIEGO. 

Mucho  en  mi  puede  el  honor, 
Pues  no  me  vence  el  amor, 
Que  si  primero  la  amaba, 
Despues  ac£  he  enloquecido: 
Mas  idos  con  Dios  Don  Juan, 
Porque  Alonso  de  Guzman 

212 


Que  me  dicen  ha  venido 
Voy  d  ver. 

DON    JUAN. 

Yo  no  ire 

Por  andarme  despachando 
Para  Espafia,  acompanando. . . .  (Vase.) 

DON  DIEGO. 
Esta  noche  os  buscare\ 


ESCENA  VII. 

DON    DIEGO,   GUZMAN. 

(Sale  Guzman  con  el penacho  en  el  sombrero.) 

GUZMAN, 

Sefior  Don  Diego. 

DON  DIEGO. 

<;  Que  os  veo, 
Guzman  ? 

GUZMAN  . 

Apenas  llegue 
Cuando  os  busco. 

DON    DIEGO. 

No  podre" 

213 


Significar  el  deseo 

Que  de  veros  he  tenido. 

GUZMAN. 

En  esta  ausencia  fiad, 
Don  Diego,  de  mi  amistad, 
Que  lo  que  mas  he  sentido 
Es  de  carecer  de  vos. 

DON    DIEGO. 

For  mas  que  lo  encarezcais 
Se"  que  a  deberme  quedais. 

GUZMAN. 

Si  hemos  de  apostar  los  dos 
A  finezas,  yo  querria 
Que  me  dij trades  antes, 
Que"  hicisteis  de  aquellos  guantes, 
Que  cuando  d  servir  partia 
Al  punto,  por  prenda  os  df 
De  amistad,  y  de  memoria. 

DON    DIEGO. 

<;  Importa  para  la  historia, 
Que  os  de  cuenta  de  ello  ? 
GUZMAN. 

Si, 

Que  viendo  que  vuestro  pecho 
Tanto  llega  £  encarecer 
214 


Su  amistad,  quiero  saber 

La  estimacion  que  habeis  hecho 

De  mis  prendas,  pues  conmigo 

Tanto  las  vuestras  valieron, 

Que  ni  los  afios  pudieron, 

Ni  del  barbaro  enemigo 

La  batalla  mas  renida 

Y  sangrienta,  hacer  jamas, 

Que  no  defendiese  mas 

Estas  plumas,  que  esta  vida. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Si  estuviera  el  defender, 
El  conservar  y  estimar 
Las  vuestras,  en  arriesgar 
La  vida,  podreis  creer, 
Que  despreciara  la  muerte. 
Mas  como  son  siempre  vanas 
Las  prevenciones  humanas 
Contra  el  orden  de  la  suerte, 
Fue  la  misma  estimacion 
Que  de  los  guantes  hacia, 
Pues  conmigo  los  traia, 
De  perderlos  la  ocasion. 

GUZMAN. 
Ya  por  lo  menos  mostro 

215 


El  cuidado  que  he  tenido, 
Don  Diego,  que  os  he  vencido 
En  no  descuidarme  yo : 
Pero  ya  que  no  podais 
Vencido  en  esto  negar, 
Hay  ocasion  de  cobrar 
En  las  albricias  que  dais 
For  cobraros  la  opinion  * 
Que  perdisteis  en  perdellos ; 
Ved  lo  que  dareis  por  ellos 
En  hallazgo,  que  estos  son. 

(Mudstraselos.) 
i  Conoceislos  ? 

DON    DIEGO. 

Si,  Guzman, 

Que  por  las  senas  que  ofrecen 
Son  ellos,  6  lo  parecen. 

GUZMAN. 

Pues  ya,   Don  Diego,  que  quedan 
Reconocidos,  probanza 
Del  suceso  que  sabeis, 
Solo  quiero  que  me  deis 
De  hallazgo  la  confianza 
De  una  secreta  verdad  ; 
En  cuya  declaracion 
ai6 


Mostrareis  la  estimacion 
Que  teneis  de  mi  amistad, 
Supuesto  que  se  la  historia, 
Pues  s6  que  donde  perdistes 
Estos  guantes,  conseguistes 
En  nombre  ageno  la  gloria 
Mayor,  que  el  amor  alcanza, 
Dando  la  noche  ocasion 
A  hurtar  su  posesion 
For  engano  a  otra  esperanza. 

DON  DIEGO  (aparte). 
\  Qu6  escucho !  j  qu6  se  ha  sabido 
Por  los  guantes  el  secreto ! . . . 
j  Causa  de  tan  grande  efeto 
Indicio  tan  leve  ha  sido ! 
El  yerro  ha  estado  en  decir 
Que  los  perdf,   pues  con  eso 
Conforma  en  parte  el  suceso  : 
Mas  ni  pude  prevenir 
El  dano  de  confesallo, 
Ni  advert!  que  los  perdf 
La  noche  que  cometf 
El  delito,  que  a  olvidallo 
Fueran  tres  aftos  bastante 
Que  han  pasado. 

217 


GUZMAN. 

Si  el  dudar 
Es  especie  de  negar : 
De  tres  puntos  importantes 
Quiero,   Don  Diego,  avisaros, 
Para  que  os  determineis. 
El  uno,  pues  que  sabeis 
Que  s6  el  caso,  el  recelaros, 
Y  negarmelo  es  quitarme 
La  obligacion  de  callar  ; 
Y  al  contrario,  el  confiar 
De  mi  el  secreto,  obligarme 
A  guardallo,  y  dello  os  doy 
La  palabra :  lo  segundo, 
En  que  con  mas  causa  fundo 
Lo  que  pidiendoos  estoy, 
Es,  que  sabe  el  agraviado 
Que  fuisteis  vos  el  ladron 
De   su  perdida  ocasion  ; 
Y  que  esta  determinado 
A  mataros,  y  no  hareis 
Facilmente  que  no  goce 
La  ocasion,  que  £1  os  conoce, 
Y  vos  no  le  conoceis. 

Lo  tercero  que  yo  estoy 
218 


En  el  caso  de  por  medio, 
Y  os  advertire*  el  remedio, 
Porque  vuestro  amigo  soy, 
Con  que  os  declareis  conmigo, 
Que  en  cambio  dello  os  prometo, 
Que  debajo  de  secreto 
Os  dire  vuestro  enemigo. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Lo  que  referis  confieso 
Que  es  verdad,  que  confesallo, 
Es  lo  mismo  que  contallo, 
Pues  sabeis  todo  el  suceso ; 
Y  asi  pues  de  vos  me  fio, 
Resta  agora  que  cumplais 
Vuestra  palabra,  y  digais 
Quien  es  el  contrario  mio, 
Y  el  medio  que  prevenis 
Para  que  me  asegureis. 

GUZMAN. 

El  contrario  qu6  teneis 
Soy  yo. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Guzman,  j  qu£  decis ! 

GUZMAN. 

Que  yo  soy  d  quien  hurtasteis 

219 


La  ocasion,  yo  quien  estaba 
En  la  calle,  y  aguardaba 
La  gloria  que  vos  gozasteis  : 
Que  advirtiendo  que  venia 
Gente  entonces,  fue  en  mi  amor 
Retirarme  por  su  honor 
Decoro,  y  no  cobardia : 
Que  la  primer  condition 
Que  me  puso,  y  prometi, 
Cuando  el  alma  le  ofrecf, 
Fue  mirar  por  su  opinion  ; 
Y  pues  sabeis  mi  valor 
Satisfecho  puedo  estar, 
De  que  no  podreis  pensar 
De  que  lo  hice  de  temor  ; 
Y  ya  que  sabido  habeis 
Que  soy  yo  quien  la  ha  perdido, 
El  remedio  es  ser  marido 
De  quien  el  honor  debeis. 

DON  DIEGO. 

Pluguiera  a  Dios  que  pudiera 
Sin  que  mi  opinion  manchara, 
Pues  que  su  deuda  pagara 
Y  mi  amor  satisfaciera : 
Mas  admirame,  Guzman, 
220 


Que  en  tan  poco  me  tengais, 
Que  casarme  pretendais 
Con  quien  tuvo  otro  galan. 

GUZMAN. 

Si  por  tener  otro  amante 
Su  honor  hubiera  perdido, 
Os  hubiera  yo  ofendido 
Con  demanda  semejante  : 
Mas  supuesto  que  no  infama 
Siendo  licito  el  favor, 
Y  solo  dafia  al  honor 
La  ejecucion,  6  la  fama, 
Justa  es  esta  pretension, 
Pues  que  yo  en  su  pensamiento 
Alcance^  solo  el  intento, 
Pero  vos  la  ejecucion. 

DON    DIEGO. 

,;  Licito  favor  llamais 
El  que  le  determin6 
A  las  obras,  y  os  abri6 
Como  aqui  me  confesais, 
Y  prob£  con  la  esperiencia, 
La  puerta? 

GUZMAN. 

<r  Si  me  llamaba 

221 


Ya  su  esposo,  no  le  daba 
El  honor  esa  licencia? 

DON  DIEGO. 

Si,  mas  de  eso  mismo  arguyo 

Lo  que  conmigo  perdi6, 

Que  si  a  vos,  Guzman,  os  dio 

Nombre  de  marido  suyo, 

Y  aquella  noche  os  abria 

Su  casa,  con  esa  fe, 

<iC6mo  me  asegurare" 

De  que  otra  vez  no  haria 

El  mismo  amoroso  esceso 

Con  vos  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Esa  es  presuncion 
Bien  fundada,  y  con  razon 
Habeis  reparado  en  eso  ; 
Mas  si  os  dejo  satisfecho 
En  esa  parte  ^  sereis 
Su  esposo? 

DON    DIEGO. 

<j  Como  podeis, 

Donde  en  vuestro  mismo  hecho 
Vos  no  valeis  por  testigo  ? 

222 


GUZMAN. 

Pues  si  es  imposible  hagamos, 
Porque  el  caso  resolvamos, 
Un  contrato  :  yo  me  oblige, 
Si  no  os  satisfago,  £  daros 
Por  libre  de  que  os  caseis, 
Con  que  vos  os  obligueis 
Si  os  satisfago,  a  casaros, 
Con  que  guardeis  un  secreto 
Que  de  vuestro  valor  fio 
<;  Lo  guardareis  como  mio  ? 

DON    DIEGO. 

Como  quien  soy  lo  prometo. 

GUZMAN. 

Sabed  pues,  Don  Diego  amigo, 
Que  yo  soy  muger. 

DON    DIEGO. 

<i  Muger  ? 

Valor  que  supo  veneer 
En  campana  al  enemigo 
Tantas  veces,  que  aun  escede 
El  cre"dito  a  la  opinion, 
Y  esperanza  del  varon 
Mas  valiente,  <;  como  puede 
Ser  hijo  del  fragil  pecho 

223 


De  una  mugeril  flaqueza  ? 
Y  ya  que  naturaleza 
Tan  gran  milagro  haya  hecho, 
<;  Como  se  pudo  encubrir 
Tanto  tiempo,  6  que  ocasion 
En  el  trage  de  varon 
Os  ha  obligado  a  servir 
En  la  guerra  ?  y  si  adocais 
A  Dona  Ana  ^he  de  creer 
De  que  amais  siendo  muger 
A  otra  muger  ?  no  querais 
Acreditar  imposibles. 
GUZMAN . 

Mi  historia,  y  las  ocasiones 
De  tales  trasformaciones, 
Y  casos  tan  increibles 
Con  atencion  escuchad, 
Que  en  ella  conocereis 
De  la  novedad  que  veis 
El  engafio,  6  la  verdad. 
En  San  Sebastian,  que  es  villa, 
En  la  provincia  soberbia 
Guipuzcoana ;  la  mas  rica, 
A  quien  el  mar  lisonjea ; 
Pues  que  llega  a  sus  murallas 
224 


A  contribuir  las  perlas, 

Si  bien  de  las  olas  se  hacen, 

Y  olas  despues  quedan  hechas, 

Naci,   Don  Diego ;  <;  mas  c6mo 

Te  podra  decir  mi  lengua 

Que  naci  muger?  perdone 

Mi  valor  tan  grande  ofensa. 

Naci  muger  en  efeto, 

De  antigua  y  noble  ascendencia, 

Es  mi  nombre  Catalina 

De  Erauso,  que  mi  nobleza, 

Me  dio  este  noble  apellido 

Bien  conocido  en  mi  tierra. 

En  la  edad,  pues,  si  se  escucha, 

Que  es  cuando  la  lengua  apenas 

Dicciones  distintas  forma, 

Juzgaba  naturaleza 

Violenta  en  mi,  pues  desnuda 

De  la  mugeril  flaqueza 

Me  ocupaba,  haciendo  afrenta 

A  Palas,  cuando  vio  a  Venus 

Pasar  los  muros  de  Grecia. 

La  labor  que  es  ejercicio 

De  la  mas  noble  doncella, 

La  trocaba  por  la  espada : 

s  225 


Las  cajas  y  las  trompetas, 
Me  daban  mayores  gustos 
Que  las  musicas  compuestas. 
Pero  mis  padres  mirando 
En  mi  condicion  tan  fiera, 
En  un  convento  que  es  freno 
De  semejantes  soberbias, 
Me  metieron.  j  Ay,  Don  T)iego ! 
Quien  esplicarte  pudiera 
La  rabia,  el  furor,  la  ira, 
Que  en  mi  corazon  se  engendra 
En  ocasion  semejante ! 
Mas  remito  estas  certezas 
A  las  violentas  acciones 
Que  has  visto  en  mi  en  esta  tierra. 
Once  anos,  y  once  siglos 
Paso  alii  mi  resistencia, 
Casi  a  imitacion  del  fuego 
Cuando  le  oprime  la  tierra : 
Mas  viendo  que  se  llegaba 
La  ocasion,  en  que  era  fuerza 
Hacer  justa  profesion, 
Ayudada  de  tinieblas 
Y  femeniles  descuidos, 
Deje"  la  clausura  honesta, 
226 


Quiero  decir  el  convento, 
Y  penetrando  asperezas, 
Montes  descubriendo  y  valles, 
Troqu6  el  vestido,  que  alientan 
Las  desdichas  con  venturas, 
Cuando  los  males  comienzan. 
Llegue*  a  la  corte,  y  Don  Juan 
De  Idiaquez,  que  entonces  era 
Presidente,  conociendo 
Mi  Guipuzcoana  nobleza, 
Tenidndome  por  varon, 
For  page  me  admite,  a  fuerza 
De  peticiones  que  hice 
Para  obligar  su  grandeza. 
Supo  todo  esto  mi  padre, 
Vine  a  Madrid,   mas  resuelta, 
Y  animosa,  a  Madrid  trueco 
Por  Pamplona,  ciudad  bella. 
A  Don  Carlos  de  Arellano 
Servi  en  ella,  mas  la  ofensa 
De  un  caballero  atrevido, 
A  quien  di  muerte  sangrienta, 
Me  ausent6  de  alia,  y  parti 
A  la  ciudad  a  quien  besa 
El  Betis  los  altos  muros, 

237 


Sevilla  al  fin,  real  palestra 
De  los  que  siguen  a  Marte ; 
Al  fin  segui  a  Marte  en  ella. 
En  la  armada  me  embarque' 
Indiana,  llegue  a  la  tierra 
Que  a  Espafia  la  fertiliza 
De  oro,  que  cria  en  sus  venas. 
Hubo  con  el  Araucano   ' 
Soberbio,  sangrienta  guerra ; 
Halle* me  en  ella,  mostre 
El  valor  que  en  mi  se  encierra : 
Yo  sola  en  la  escaramuza 
Que  vi  trabada  primera, 
Mate... mas  esta  alabanza 
Diganlo  voces  agenas, 
Que  yo  no  te  dire*  mas 
De  que  en  la  ocasion  primera, 
Me  dio  Don  Diego  Sarabia 
De  sargento  la  gineta, 
Y  despues  no  paso  mucho 
Me  honraron  con  la  bandera 
Que  honro  a  Gonzalo  Rodriguez, 
Muerto  a  las  manos  soberbias 
De  barbaros  Araucanos : 
Puesto  que  su  muerte  cuesta 
228 


Muchas  vidas  a  los  Indies, 
Y  a  mi  heridas  inmensas, 
Que  si  en  mi  pecho  las  miras 
Te  daran  clara  evidencia. 
Fuse  en  el  rostro  la  mano 
De  un  caballero,  y  fue  fuerza 
Venirme  a  Lima,  Don  Diego, 
A  donde  Dona  Ana  bella, 
Juzgandome  por  varon 
Amor  y  aficion  me  muestra. 
Goce*  un  ano  sus  favores, 
Y  al  cabo  de  £1  representa 
Vuestro  amor,  el  sentimiento 
De  que  yo  la  adore  y  quiera. 
Dej6  a  Lima,  fuime  al  puerto, 
Para  que  vos  con  mi  ausencia 
Gozasedes  mas  favores, 
Aunque  aquella  noche  mesma 
La  volvi  a  ver,  y  esta  vista 
Fue  causa  que  vuestra  sea, 
Con  el  engano,   Don  Diego, 
Que  vos  sabeis,  mas  no  es  esta 
Ocasion  de  dilatar 
Lo  que  mi  razon  intenta. 

A   Lima  he  vuelto  obligada 

229 


De  mi  desdichada  estrella, 
Que  en  impulses  de  mi  espada 
Tiene  sus  acciones  puestas. 
Tres  anos  ha  que  este  acaso 
Sucedi6,  y  ella  me  ruega, 
Como  causa  de  este  error, 
Y  principle  de  esta  pena, 
Que  por  su  honor  vuelva  y  mire 
Aquesta  es  forzosa  deuda 
En  mi,  pues  que  di  ocasion, 
A  que  su  honor  se  perdiera. 
Vos  lo  podeis  remediar, 
Y  lo  habeis  de  hacer  por  fuerza 
Cuando  no  querais  de  grado ; 
Y  advertid,  que  no  os  parezca 
Porque  soy  muger,  Don  Diego, 
Que  no  alcanzare  esta  empresa. 
Que  jvive  Dios!  que  primero 
El  sol  dejard  A  la  tierra, 
A  las  arenas  el  mar, 
Las  aves  la  region  fresca, 
La  tierra  las  verdes  plantas, 
El  fuego  su  altiva  esfera, 
Que  vos  podais  eximiros 
De  pagar  tan  justa  deuda, 
230 


Pues  la  razon  os  obliga 
Cuando  mi  valor  os  ruega. 
DON  DIEGO. 

Yo  quedo  de  verdad  tan  prodigiosa 
For  las  senas  del  rostro  satisfecho, 
Pues  ya  la  barba  en  el  era  forzosa  ; 
Mas  Don  Juan,  secretario  de  mi  pecho, 
Ines,  criada  de  Dona  Ana  hermosa, 
Machin,  privanza  vuestra,  son  del  hecho 
Testigos,  y  es  precise  darles  cuenta 
De  esta  verdad,  para  evitar  mi  afrenta, 
Si  tengo  de  casarme. 

GUZMAN. 

No  lo  niego, 

Y  de  Dona  Ana  el  bien  me  solicita : 
Mas  publicar  que  soy  muger,  Don  Diego, 
Primero  morir£  que  lo  permita. 

DON    DIEGO. 

<;  Qu6  haremos  pues  ? 

GUZMAN. 

La  Have  que  os  entrego 
Del  secreto  guardad,  que  el  tiempo  quita 
Inconvenientes,  y  el  discurso  humano 
No  tiene  los  remedies  en  la  mano : 
Dejadmelo  pensar  que  ya  esta  hecho 

231 


Lo  mas,  pues  con  mi  historia  habeis  quedado 
Del  honor  de  Dona  Ana  satisfecho, 
Y  de  vuestra  sospecha  asegurado. 

DON  DIEGO. 

Vuestro  secreto  morird  en  mi  pecho, 
Y  de  vuestra  amistad  voy  confiado, 
Que  no  obligue  a  Dona  Ana  con  mi  afrenta. 
(Vase  Don  Diego?) 

GUZMAN. 

Su  honor  y  el  vuestro  quedan  por  mi  cuenta. 


ESCENA  VIII. 

GUZMAN,    EL   NUEVO   CID, 

(Es  de  noc he.} 

EL  CID  (aparte). 

6l  es,  y  viene  solo,  y  pues  la  suerte 
Despues  de  tanto  tiempo  a  su  castigo 
La  ocasion  me  dispone ;  con  su  muerte 
Mi  afrenta  vengare\...jMuere  enemigo! 
(Sacan  las  espadas,  acuchillanse  y  entranse.} 

GUZMAN. 
jAh  vil  traidor! 

232 


EL   CID. 

Procura  defenderte. 

GUZMAN. 

^'Conoces  que  es  Guzman  el  que  contigo 
Mide  la  espada? 

EL  CID. 

Muerto  soy,  espera, 
Dejame  confesar  antes  que  muera. 


ESCENA   IX. 

OCANA,  MONROY  Y  PEROMATO, 

(presos  de  la  cdrcel). 

OCANA. 

Cualquiera  gallina  miente 
Si  lo  dice. 

MONROY. 

Yo  lo  digo ; 

Pero  eso  no  habla  conmigo 
Que  a  las  gallinas  desmiente, 
Y  sabe  que  no  lo  soy. 

OCANA. 
Si  i\  lo  dice,  con  &  hablo. 


MONROY. 

Ocana,  ^enganate  el  diablo 
O  estas  borracho? 

OCANA. 

Monroy, 

Ni  he  bebido,  ni  me  engana. 

MONROY. 

Triste,  ^quieres  que  te  mate? 

OCANA. 

j  Que  gracioso  disparate ! 

MONROY. 

Ala,  doblen  por  Ocana. 

(Acuchillanse  con  ter dados,  y  mttese  en  medio 
Peromato  sin  terciado.} 


ESCENA   X. 

LOS  DICHOS,  MOTRIL  Y  JARAVA, 
(presos). 

MOTRIL. 

^  Es  posible  que  de  piano 
Confesase  ? 
234 


JARAVA. 

No  os  espante, 
Si  le  hallaron  en  fragante, 
Y  con  la  espada  en  la  mano 
Desnuda,  y  ensangrentada. 

MOTRIL. 

Si  e*l  negara,  no  muriera, 
For  mas  indicios  que  hubiera. 

MONROY. 
<j  Que"  es  eso,  Motril  ? 

MOTRIL. 

No  es  nada. 

Mat6  al  Nuevo  Cid  Guzman, 
Prendie"ronle  y  al  momento 
Sin  tocar  el  instrumento 
Cant6  como  un  sacristan. 

OCA&A. 

Yo  apostare*  que  al  probete 
Le  dan  luego  su  recado, 
Que  al  virey  tienen  cansado 
Los  delitos  que  comete, 
Y  querrd  abreviar  con  e"l. 


235 


ESCENA   XL 
DON  DIEGO,  Y  DON  JUAN. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Muero  de  pesar,  Don  Juan, 
Viendo  a  Alonso  de  Guzman 
En  un  trance  tan  cruel, 
Que  dicen  que  ha  cortfesado 
El  delito,  y  es  forzoso, 
Que  el  ser  tan  escandaloso, 
Tan  inquieto  y  arrojado, 
Provoque  la  indignacion 
Del  virey. 

DON    JUAN. 

Airado  esta, 

Y  en  esta  ocasion  querri 
Hacer  gran  demostracion. 

ESCENA   XII. 
LOS  DICHOS,  Y  MACHIN,  (ttorando.) 

MACHIN. 

j  Ay  amo  de  mis  entranas ! 
^  C6mo  es  posible  que  plugo 
236 


A  los  cielos,  que  un  verdugo 
Oscurezca  tus  hazafias? 

DON    DIEGO. 

«fQue  hay  de  tu  senor,  Machin? 

MACHIN. 

Hay,  que  el  virey  se  ha  mostrado 
Mas  cruel,  mas  obstinado, 
Que  suele  un  hombre  ruin 
Agraviado  y  con  poder. 
Segun  orden  de  milicia 
Ha  mandado  hacer  justicia 
D£l  al  punto,  sin  querer 
Admitir  suplicacion, 
Y  ya  se  esta  confesando, 
Y  el  pueblo  todo  aguardando 
La  afrentosa  ejecucion. 
DON  DIEGO  (aparte). 
Ya  es  esta  ocasion  forzosa, 
De  declarar  que  es  muger 
Al  virey,  que  es  de  creer 
Que  por  ser  tan  prodigiosa 
Le  mueva  a  justa  piedad  ; 
Y  aunque  ella  no  lo  confiesa, 
Dir£  que  es  monja  profesa 
Y  pondra  £  su  potestad 

237 


Secular,  impedimento  : 
Pues  stendolo,  al  tribunal 
Del  fuero  espiritual, 
Toca  su  conocimiento. 
Dos  justos  fines  consigo 
Con  este  tan  facil  medio, 
Pues  que  su  vida  remedio 
Como  verdadero  amigo  ; 
Y  con  esto  satisfechos 
Machin,  Ines  y  Don  Juan, 
De  que  es  muger,  quedaran 
Los  escrupulos  desechos, 
Que  impiden  que  tan  forzosa 
Deuda  le  pague  a  Dona  Ana, 
Y  su  beldad  soberana 
Goce  en  paz  y  union  dichosa. 
Venid  conmigo  Don  Juan. 

DON    JUAN. 

«iA  donde  vais? 

DON    DIEGO, 

A  romper 

Un  secreto  que  ha  de  ser 
El  remedio  de  Guzman.  (Vanse.} 


ESCENA  XIII. 

MACHIN,   OCANA,    MOTRIL, 
MONROY. 

OCANA. 

En  fin  quiso  de  este  modo, 
Machin,  ser  mas  confesor, 
Que  martir  vuestro  senor, 
Y  ha  venido  a  serlo  todo. 

MACHIN. 

Y  con  obstinado  pecho 
Dice,  j  qua*  tema  tan  loca  ! 
Que  no  ha  de  negar  la  boca 
Lo  que  las  manos  han  hecho. 

MOTRIL. 

Caprichoso  disparate. 
MONROY. 

^  Es  por  ventura  mejor 
Dar  cabriolas  ? 

OCANA. 

No  hay  valor 
Como  guardar  el  gaznate. 

239 


ESCENA   XIV. 
GUZMAN,    MACHIN,    UN   ALCALDE, 

Y    UN    RELIGIOSO. 
ALCALDE. 

Vistase  la  ropa,  amigo. 

GUZMAN.  »'* 

<;  Qu6  ropa  ?  yo  soy  soldado, 
Y  en  mi  trage  han  de  llevarme. 

RELIGIOSO. 

No  mire  en  puntos  hermano, 
Que  va  a  morir,  y  es  cristiano. 

GUZMAN  (aparte]. 
i  Pues  yo  que  dejo  quitarme 
La  vida,  por  no  decir 
Que  soy  muger,  ni  tener 
Faldas,  habia  de  querer 
Llevarlas  para  morir  ? 

RELIGIOSO. 

Advierta  que  los  perdones 
Del  habito  perdera. 

GUZMAN. 

Misas  hay,  todo  sera 
Un  ano  mas  de  tizones. 
240 


RELIGIOSO. 

j  Que"  terrible  obstinacion  ! 

GUZMAN  (aparte). 
Por  no  parecer  muger 
Todo  lo  quiero  perder 
Fuera  del  alma. 

(Dentro  toctos.) 

Perdon, 
Perdon... 

MACHIN. 

?  lo  dije  luego. 


ESCENA   XV. 
LOS  DICHOS,  Y  DON  JUAN. 

DON   JUAN. 

La  sentencia  ha  suspendido 
El  virey,  porque  ha  sabido 
De  vuestro  amigo  Don  Diego 
Que  sois  muger. 

GUZMAN. 

i  Muger  yo  ? 
Miente...mande  su  escelencia 

T  241 


Ejecutar  la  sentencia, 
Que  Don  Diego  le  engan6 
For  escusarme  la  muerte. 

MACHIN. 

Vive  Cristo  que  has  de  ser, 
Aunque  no  quieras,  muger, 
Y  librarte  de  la  muerte, 
Que  despues  ello  dira.* 

RELIGIOSO. 

Si  lo  tiene  por  afrenta 
Sin  fruto  negarlo  intenta, 
Que  el  caso  es  publico  ya. 

DON    JUAN. 

Y  de  todos  viene  a  ser 
El  mayor  dano  morir. 

GUZMAN. 

^  Para  que"   quiero  vivir 
Si  saben  que  soy  muger? 

FIN    DE    LA    JORNADA    SEGUNDA. 


242 


JORNADA    III. 

ESCENA   I. 

La  escena  es  en  Madrid. 

EL  VIZCONDE   DE  LA  ZOLINA,  (en 
hdbito  de  Alcdntara)  Y   DON   DIEGO. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Despues  que  el  virey  de  Lima 
La  suplicacion  le  otorga, 
De  la  novedad  movido 
Que  le  refiri6  mi  boca : 
Juridicas  esperiencias 
Licitas,  por  ser  forzosas, 
De  que  es  muger  el  Alfe"rez 
Con  evidencia  le  informan. 
Y  asi  mirando  su  causa 
Con  atencion  mas  piadosa 
Le  da  plazos,  en  que  prueba 
Que  el  Nuevo  Cid  la  provoca 
A  la  pendencia,  y  por  ser 
Justa  y  natural  la  propia 
Defensa,  en  la  liltima  instancia 
La  sentencia  le  revoca. 

243 


Restituida  a  su  trage 
En  las  trinitarias  monjas 
La  recluyen,   por  la  fama 
Que  tiene  de  religiosa. 
Alii  violentada,  juzga 
Eternidades  las  horas, 
Mas  repugnante  que  el  viento 
Oprimido  de  las  ondas  : 
Hasta  que  vino  a  romper 
Las  prisiones,  la  discordia 
Que  sobre  elegir  prelada, 
Iras  siembra,   y  bandos  forma 
De  Isabel  de  Larrifiaga, 
Por  ser  vizcaina,  toma 
Por  cuenta  suya  la  voz 
Para  elegirla  priora. 
Era  la  parcialidad 
Contraria  mas  poderosa, 
Y  asi   remite  a  las   manos 
Lo  que  no  alcanza  la  boca ; 
Y  con  un  baston  robusto 
De  tal  suerte  el  viento  azota, 
Que  lo  que  no  ablandan  ruegos 
A  duros  golpes  negocia. 
Ofendidas  de  su  esceso, 
344 


Y  de  su  furia  medrosas, 
La  espulsion  que  ella  desea 
Le  solicitan  las  monjas. 
Las  dos  cabezas  del  reino 
Secular,  y  religiosa, 
For  evitar  disensiones 
En  lo  mismo  se  conforman. 
Libre  al  fin  de  la  clausura 
Pasar  a  Espafta  y   a  Roma 
Resuelve,  a  cosas  que  entiendo 
Que  a  la  conciencia  le  importan ; 
Y  al  instante  que  al  Callao 
Daba  por  el  mar  la  popa, 
En  calzones  y  ropilla 
Trueca  basquinas  y  ropa. 
Halla  propicio  a  Neptuno, 
Llega  a  la  arena  espanola, 
Que  a  las  columnas  de  Alcides 
Cerr6  el  paso,  y  dio  memoria. 
Por  el  habito  indecente 
El  obispo  la  aprisiona ; 
Mas  informado  despues 
De  sus  hazanas  heroicas, 
No  solo  no  la  castiga, 
Mas  antes  la  galardona, 

245 


Alentando  su  Jornada 
Con  dineros  y  con  joyas. 
Parti6se  luego  de  Cadiz 
Para  esta  corte  que  goza 
Del  sol,  en  la  casa  de  Austria, 
Los  rayos  y  la  corona. 
Dfcenme  que  esta  ya  en  ella, 
Btiscola,  porque  me  importa 
Lo  que  sabeis.   Prosiguiendo 
Tras  de  la  suya  mi  historia, 
Ya  os  dije,  senor  vizconde 
De  Zolina,  que  dos  cosas 
Me  obligaron  justamente 
A  que  el  secreto  le  rompa. 
Una  fue  librar  la  vida 
De  infame  suplicio,  y  otra 
Dar  yo  la  mano  a  la  dama 
Que  firme  mi  pecho  adora, 
Y  satisfacer  la  deuda 
De  su  honor  sin  mi  deshonra, 
Declarando  a  los  testigos 
De  su  engafio,  y  de  la  gloria 
Que  en  nombre  ageno  alcance", 
Que  quien  sus  favores  goza 
Es  Guzman,  y  publicado 
246 


Que  es  muger,  deshace  y  borra 
Las  sospechas  que  amenazan 
Murmuracion  a  mis  bodas, 
Sin  reparar  en  deseos 
No  ejecutados,  que  pocas 
Llegan  al  talamo  honradas, 
Si  los  intentos  deshonran. 
Luego  pues  que  del  teatro 
De  su  tragedia  afrentosa, 
Redemi  a  la  Monja  Alfe>ez, 
Que  asi  la  llaman  agora, 
A  la  dama  por  quien  muero 
Voy  a  declarar  la  historia, 
Alegre  de  poder  ya 
Admitirla  por  esposa. 
Ella  no  menos  contenta, 
Pues  su  honor  perdido  cobra, 
Hace  gracias  al  engano 
Por  quien  viene  a  ser  dichosa. 
Con  esto  parto  al   instante 
A  dar  al  AlfeVez  Monja 
Cuenta  de  como  los  cielos 
Nuestros  intentos  conforman. 
Estaba  presa,  y  ya  en  trage 
De  muger,  y  hablando  d  solas, 

347 


Le  doy  alegre  la  nueva 
De  mis  concertadas  bodas  ; 
Mas  ella  j  quten  tal  pensara ! 
Cuando  espero  que  responda 
Dandome  mil  parabienes, 
Quiere  que  mis  males  oiga, 
Dicidndome  estas  palabras  : 
Ya  yo,  Don  Diego,  soy  otra, 
Que  fuf,  porque  de  la  muerte 
He  visto  la  horrible  sombra. 
Yo  no  soy  quien  de  esa  dama 
Perdio  la  ocasion  dichosa 
Que  por  engano  alcanzaste, 
Otro  amante  es  quien  la  goza. 
Ser  conocidos  por  mios 
Los  guantes,  y  ser  notoria 
Al  mundo  mi  valentia, 
Hizo  que  en  mis  manos  ponga 
Esta  dama  su  remedio  ; 
Era  la  causa  piadosa, 
Ella  muger,  yo  muger, 
Dadivas  quebrantan  rocas. 
Todo  junto  me  obligo 
A  que  en  favor  suyo  rompa 
La  ley  de  vuestra  amistad, 
248 


Y  a  engafiaros  me  disponga  : 

Mas  ya  que  os  debo  la  vida, 

Y  arrepentida  me  exhorta 

La  confesion  a  la  enmienda, 

No  es  bien  que  os  quite  la  honra. 

Dijo :  y  quede*   como  suele, 

El  sin  ventura  a  quien  tocan 

De  Jupiter  vengativo 

Las  armas  abrasadoras  : 

Como  aquel  que  en  pena  dura 

En  un  punto  se  trasforma, 

Si  el  rostro  fatal  le  ensena 

La  Gorgona  encantadora, 

Vuelvo  en  mi,  y  multiplicando 

Al  paso  de  las  congojas, 

Las  palabras,   le  pregunto, 

Si  de  la  verdad  me  informa : 

Afirmase  en  lo  que  ha  dicho, 

A  matarla  me  provoca 

Mi  furor,  mas  mi  valor 

For  ser  muger  la  perdona. 

Fugitive  parto  a  Espana, 

Jornada  que  me  ocasiona 

Y  facilita  Don  Juan, 

Que  en  aquella  misma  flota, 

249 


A  intentos  suyos  partia : 
Mas  ella,  perdida  y  loca, 
Que  el  desprecio  es  el  que  mas 
A  la  muger  enamora, 
En  demanda  de  su  honor 
Me  sigue  mas  que  mi  sombra, 
Que  para  ser  importuna 
Bastale  ser  acreedora. 
Llego  4  Madrid,  y  d  Madrid 
Llega  tambien,  y  sus  obras, 
Palabras,  y  pensamientos, 
De  tal  suerte  se  conforman 
En  quererme,  en  obligarme, 
Y  en  persuadirme  que  sola 
Resistiera  d  sus  combates, 
La  deidad  que  honor  se  nombra : 
Pasando  prolijos  dias 
En  batalla  tan  penosa, 
Su  amor,  y  mi  resistencia, 
Encuentro  d  Machin  agora, 
Refi£reme  lo  que  yo 
Ignoraba  de  esta  historia, 
Despues  que  triste  parti 
De  la  America,  4  la  Europa. 
Diceme  que  est&  el  Alferez 
250 


En  la  corte  ya,  y  que  posa 
En  casa  de  un  noble  hidalgo 
Su  amigo,  y  compatriota, 
Cuyo  nombre  es  Sebastian 
De  Illumbe,  y  que  su  persona, 
Senor  vizconde,  y  la  vuestra 
Un  solo  espiritu  forman. 
Y  asi  me  quiero  valer 
De  vos  con  el,  porque  ponga, 
Y  vos  en  favorecerme 
Pongais  vuestras  fuerzas  todas ; 
Intercediendo  los  dos 
Para  que  el  AlfeYez  Monja 
Alumbre  con  la  verdad 
Mi  confusion  tenebrosa : 
Que  tan  constante  porfia, 
Y  tan  tiernamente  llora 
Mi  triste  amante,  afirmando, 
Que  la  Monja  Alfe"rez  sola 
Sus  favores  mereci6 
Que  a  las  insensibles  rocas 
Persuadird,  cuanto  mas, 
A  quien  como  yo  la  adora. 
Mueva  a  piedad  mi  desdicha, 
Y  al  fin  de  vuestra  persona 

251 


La  autoridad,  que  ha  de  ser 
La  causa  mas  poderosa. 
VIZCONDE. 

Lo  que  mas  con  el  valor 
De  un  hidalgo  pecho  alcanza, 
Es  el  hacer  desconfianza 
En  negocios  del  honor ; 
Y  asi  la  podreis  tener 
De  que  para  averiguar 
La  verdad,  no  he  de  dejar 
Piedra  alguna  por  mover. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Pues  con  eso  asegurais 
Mis  esperanzas. 

VIZCONDE. 

Yo  quiero, 

Hablarla  a  solas  primero, 
Que  vos  con  ella  os  veais. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Pues  la  brevedad,  sefior, 
Os  pido. 

VIZCONDE. 

Bien  se"  Don  Diego 
Que  no  permiten  sosiego 
Puntos  de  honor  y  de  amor.    (Panst.) 
252 


ESCENA    II. 
GUZMAN   Y   MACHIN. 

GUZMAN  (rompiendo  unos  naipes). 
\  Ah  sota  !   <:  qu£  juegue  yo  ? 
j  Voto  a  Dios  ! 

MACHIN. 

Vota  y  re  mega, 
La  culpa  tiene  quien  juega, 
Que  la  sota  <;  en  que*  pec6  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Ya  he  perdido,  ^  que*  he  de  hacer, 
Pue"dolo  yo  remediar? 
MACHIN. 

No,  pero  puedes  guardar 
Lo  que  queda  por  perder. 

GUZMAN. 

Bien  dices. 

MACHIN. 

^  Pero  no  sabes 
Como  a  Don  Diego  he  encontrado? 

GUZMAN. 

j  A  Don  Diego  !  <;  y  que"  te  dijo  ? 

253 


MACHIN. 

Que  le  contase  tus  casos 
Desde  que  parti6  de  Lima, 
Hasta  que  a  Madrid  llegamos  : 
Y  dellos  y  de  la  casa 
En  que  vives,  informado, 
Diciendo  que  te  veria 
Se  despidi6. 

GUZMAN. 

,;Y  del  engano 
De  Dona  Ana  no  te  habl6  ? 

MACHIN. 

Yo  estaba  desatinado 
For  tener  nuevas  de  Ines  ; 
Mas  sabe  que  soy  un  marmol 
En  callar,  desde  que  en  Lima, 
Por  haberme  tii  mandado 
Que  negase  los  amores 
De  Dona  Ana,  halld  en  mis  labios 
Las  costumbres  de  Vizcaya 
En  lo  duro  y  lo  cerrado, 
Y  asi  no  toc6  ese  punto  ; 
Mas  pues  los  dos  lo  tocamos, 
Si  la  mudanza  de  tierras 
Y  de  los  tiempos,  la  ha  dado 
254 


A  tus  intentos  ocultos, 
<:  No  me  diras  hasta  cuando 
A  Dona  Ana  y  a  Don  Diego, 
Has  de  hacer  tan  graves  daflos? 

GUZMAN. 
Yo  me  entiendo. 

MACHIN. 

<;  Que*  fin  llevas  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Yo  me  entiendo. 

MACHIN. 

Algun  gran  caso 
Sin  duda  alguna  previenes, 
Pues  de  mi  lo  ocultas  tanto, 
Que  siempre  fui  del  archive 
De  tu  pecho  secretario. 

GUZMAN. 

Ya  digo  que  yo  me  entiendo : 
Ver  a  Don  Diego  es  el  plazo, 
De  declarar  la  intencion 
De  mi  silencio  y  mi  engano : 
Ten  paciencia,  y  no  me  apures, 
Que  importa,  pues  yo  lo  callo. 

MACHIN. 
Sebastian  de  Illumbe  viene. 

255 


GUZMAN. 

No  le  digas  que  he  jugado. 

MACHIN. 

^Temes  la  fraterna? 

GUZMAN. 

Si, 
Que  es  cuerdo,  y  tiene  a  su  cargo, 

% 

Mi  correccion  y  modestia 
For  comision  del  vicario. 

MACHIN. 

For  esta  vez  callare", 

Mas  si  otra  vez  juegas,  canto. 


ESCENA   III. 

LOS  DICHOS,  SEBASTIAN  DE  ILLUMBE 

Y  UN  CRIADO,  con  un  lio  de  vestidos  de  muger, 
y  pdnelos  sobre  un  bufete. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Deja  sobre  ese  bufete 
Ese  vestido,  y  volando 
Parte  a  casa  del  vizconde 
256 


De  Zolina,  y  di  que  aguardo 
El  coche  que  le  pedf. 

(Vase  el  criado.) 
Sabed,  Alferez  Erauso, 
Que  un  consejero  real 
A  quien  la  fama  ha  llevado 
Nuevas  de  vos,  quiere  veros. 

GUZMAN. 

j  Qu£  ha  de  verme !  <?  soy  acaso 
Algun  monstruo  nunca  visto, 
O  la  fiera  que  inventaron 
Que  con  letras  y  con  armas 
Se  vi6  en  el  reino  polaco  ? 
^  No  ha  visto  un  hombre  sin  barbas  ? 

MACHIN. 

j  Hombre !...<;£  que  tii  has  olvidado 
Sin  duda  el  memento  mulier 
De  aquel  mongil  trinitario, 
Que  te  pusieron  en  Lima? 

SEBASTIAN. 

Ser  una  muger  soldado, 

Y  una  monja  alfdrez,  es 

El  prodigio  mas  estrano 

Que  en  estos  tiempos  se  ha  visto  ; 

Y  al  fin  en  siendo  mandato 

u  257 


De  un  consejero,  es  forzoso 
El  obedecerle. 

GUZMAN. 

Vamos, 

Que  debe  de  convenir 
Pues  porfias. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Aguardaos 

Que  quiero  que  vais  en  trage 
De  muger. 

MACHIN. 

Esto  es  el  diablo. 

GUZMAN. 

Senor  Sebastian  de  Illumbe, 
Solo  el  respeto  que  os  guardo 
Puede  hacer  que  vuestro  intento 
No  castigue  por  agravio. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Mirad  cuan  lejos  estaba 
De  imaginar  agraviaros, 
Ni  hallar  en  vos  resistencia, 
Que  sin  haber  consultado 
Con  vos  el  intento  mio, 
De  casa  una  dama  os  traigo 
258 


Este  vestido,  y  previne 
Un  coche  para  llevaros. 

MACHIN. 

j  La  alferez,  y  Catalina . . . ! 
(Llega  Machin  con  un  manto,  y  dale  Guzman 
un  gofye.} 

GUZMAN. 
Aparta  loco. 

MACHIN. 

j  Mai  ano 
Para  la  ama  de  Alcides! 

GUZMAN. 

De  colera  estoy  rabiando. 

MACHIN. 

Pues  a  trueque  de  ir  en  coche, 
Hay  en  Madrid  mil  Barbados, 
Que  se  pondran  de  botargas. 

SEBASTIAN. 

AlfeVez,  determinaos 
Que  esto  importa. 
GUZMAN. 

Si  os  he  dicho, 
Y  os  dice  mi  vida,  cuanto 
Mi  propio  ser  aborrezco ; 


Si  de  mis  padres  y  hermanos 
Troque^  la  amada  presencia 
For  el  inddmito  Arauco ; 
Si  recibf  mil  heridas, 
Y  si  de  Miguel  Erauso 
Mi  mismo  hermano  vertio 
La  sangre,  mi  airada  mano ; 
Si  del  ultimo  suplicio    * 
Viendo  ya  el  lugar  infausto 
Me  dejaba  dar  la  muerte 
En  un  infame  teatro, 
Todo  por  no  publicar 
Que  soy  muger,  ^  no  es  en  vano 
Querer  que  me  vista  agora 
De  lo  que  aborrezco  tanto? 

SEBASTIAN. 

Por  vuestro  gusto  habeis  hecho 
Escesos  tan  mal  pensados, 
Quiza  porque  no  tuvisteis 
Quien  supiese  aconsejaros. 
Mas  ya  que  yo  os  aconsejo, 
Y  que  el  nombre  me  habeis  dado 
De  amigo,  tengo  de  ver 
Si  con  vos,  AlfeVez,  valgo 
Mas  que  vuestra  inclinacion ; 
260 


Y  si  quereis  por  un  rato 
De  disgusto,  que  me  tenga 
Por  hombre  poco  avisado 
El  oidor,  si  a  su  presencia, 
Que  ha  de  respetarse  tanto, 
Os  llevo  en  trage  indecente. 

GUZMAN. 

Pues  decid  £qu6  desacato 
Se  hace  a  su  autoridad, 
Si  ya  por  ella  el  vicario 
De  Madrid  me  tuvo  presa, 
Y  por  haberse  informado 
De  mis  hazanas,  me  di6 
Por  libre. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Pues  publicado 
Con  ello  que  sois  muger 
<;  Qu6  perdereis  en  mudaros 
Por  dos  horas  en  su  trage? 

GUZMAN. 

Dos  horas  son  dos  mil  anos, 
Y  no  quiero  parecello 
Ya  que  no  puedo  negallo : 
Demas  que  el  oidor  querra 
Verme  en  el  mismo  que  traigo : 

261 


Mas  la  novedad  esta 

Que  le  obligue  a  desearlo, 

Que  en  el  otro  <jque  hay  que  ver? 

<;  Es  por  ventura  milagro 

Ver  una  muger  vestida 

De  muger  ? 

SEBASTIAN. 

Si,  cuando  ha  dado 
Tanta  materia  a  la  fama, 
Con  hechos  tan  senalados, 
Que  ellos,  no  el  disfraz,  le  mueven 
A  querer  veros  y  hablaros. 
Esto  en  efecto  ha  de  ser, 
Que  ya  por  el  mismo  caso 
Que  me  resistis,  celoso 
De  ver  lo  poco  que  valgo 
Con  vos,  6  he  de  conseguirlo, 
O  jamas  tengo  de  hablaros. 

MACHIN. 

Acab6se,  vizcainos 
Testarudos  sois  entrambos : 
Ved  por  cual  ha  de  quebrar. 
Mas  tii  que  estas  rehusando 
Parecer  muger,  y  en  nada 
Podras  parecerlo  tanto, 


262 


Como  en  decir  tijeretas 
Has  de  ser  lo  mas  delgado. 

GUZMAN. 

Claro  esta  que  lo  he  de  ser, 
Pues  un  amigo  a  quien  guardo 
Tanto  respeto,  se  empena 

(QuUase  la  capa  con  rabia.} 
Tan  resuelto  y  arrojado : 

(A  Mackin.) 
Dame  ese  manteo. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Agora 
Me  pones  al  rostro  un  clavo. 

MACHIN. 

j  Que"  bien  haces !  no  porfies, 
Que  a  un  tal  Roque  preguntando 
Que  porqu£  de  las  mugeres 
Piiblicas,  gustaba  tanto, 
Dijo,  por  no  porfiar. 

GUZMAN. 

Acaba. 

SEBASTIAN. 

^  Quieres  acaso 
Vestirte  sobre  la  espada? 

263 


GUZMAN. 

Estoy  tan  acostumbrado.... 
(Quitase  la  espada,  y  pdnese  el  manteo  al  revest] 

MACHIN. 
Acostumbrada.... 

GUZMAN. 

Tambien 

Lo  estoy  de  tratarme  hablando, 
Como  varon. 

MACHIN. 

Ponte  agora 
El  manteo  que  es  bizarro. 

GUZMAN. 

El  mas  bizarro  manteo 
No  iguala  al  calzon  mas  llano. 

MACHIN. 

No  aciertas  la  coyuntura. 

GUZMAN. 

j  Qu6  he  de  acertar !  que  los  diablos 
Inventaron  estos  grilles. 

MACHIN. 

Vue'lvele  de  esotro  lado. 

GUZMAN. 

j  Pese  a  mi !  <;  qu£  he  de  volver  ? 
,?  No  veis  que  me  viene  largo  ? 
264 


MACHIN. 

Pues  ponerte  los  chapines. 

GUZMAN. 

j  Chapines  !  <;  estas  borracho  ? 
(Suenan  dentro  cuckilladas.) 

DENTRO. 
Dete"nganse  caballeros. 

OTRO. 
Vive  Dios,  que  he  de  mataros. 

GUZMAN. 

^  Qu6  es  aquello  ? 

MACHIN. 

Cuchilladas. 

GUZMAN. 

Pese  £  las  faldas.... 
(Sttelta  el  manteo,  coge  la  espada  y  la 
desenvaina.) 
MACHIN. 

Andallo. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Aguardad. 

GUZMAN. 

j  Que  he  de  aguardar ! 
Todo  es  cansarme  y  cansaros, 

265 


Lo  que  no  puedo  conmigo, 
Necedad  es  intentarlo. 

SEBASTIAN. 

,;D6nde  vais  ? 

MACHIN. 

<j  Eso  pregunta 
Si  se  estan  acuchillando, 
Y  no  tiene  otras  cosquillas  ? 

SEBASTIAN. 

El  reducirlo  es  en  vano 
Porque  tiene  solamente 
De  muger,  lo  porfiado. 

(Vanse.) 


ESCENA   IV. 
DON  JUAN,  DON  DIEGO,  DONA  ANA. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Al  vizconde  le  Zolina, 
A  quien  el  Alfe"rez  Monja, 
Quiere  en  todo  hallar  lisonja 
Porque  d  ampararle  se  inclina, 
Lo  mismo  le  ha  respondido. 
266 


DONA    ANA. 

<;Que  aun  estd  firme  en  su  engano ? 

,;  Que*  me  haga  tan  to  dano, 

Sin  haberla  yo  ofendido? 

Si  tan  conocida  injuria, 

Sin  justa  pena  dejais 

j  Cielos  !  «;  para  qui£n  guardais 

Los  rayos  de  vuestra  furia  ? 

DON    DIEGO. 

Dona  Ana,  sin  fruto  son 
Tus  quejas,  yo  no  he  podido 
Mostrar  lo  que  te  he  querido 
Con  mas  clara  informacion, 
Que  haberme  determinado, 
Contra  escrupulos  de  honor, 
Obligado  de  tu  amor, 
Y  de  mi  deuda  obligado 
A  ser  tu  esposo,  si  fue 
El  disfrazado  Guzman 
Solamente  tu  galan, 
Y  de  la  ocasioh  que  hurte" 
Era  el  dueno,  pues  podia 
Perdonar  tu  liviandad, 
For  tener  seguridad 
De  que  tu  intencion  no  habia 

267 


Llegado  a  la  ejecucion, 

Que  es  cierto  que  se  casaran 

Muy  pocos,  si  repararan 

En  delitos  de  intencion. 

Mas  la  Monja,   como  ves, 

Lo  niega  tan  en  tu  dano, 

Quej'ate  pues  de  su  engafio, 

Si  por  ventura  lo  es, 

Y  no  de  mi  buen  intento, 

Que  sabe  el  cielo,  senora, 

Que  de  tus  plantas  adora 

Las  huellas  mi  pensamiento. 

Mas  fuera  gran  desvario, 

Y  tii  misma  me  culparas, 

Si  porque  tu  honor  cobraras, 

Quisiera  perder  el  mio, 

Y  el  tuyo  que  es  cierta  cosa, 

Que  no  tiene  una  muger 

Mayor  afrenta,  que  ser 

De  un  hombre  afrentado  esposa. 

DONA   ANA. 

Tii  sin  duda  arrepentido 
De  pagar  tu  obligacion, 
Has  trazado  esta  invencion, 
Y  tu  amistad  ha  podido 


268 


Obligarla  a  que  olvidara 
De  su  conciencia  el  temor, 
Para  quitarme  el  honor 
Negando  verdad  tan  clara; 
Mas  la  justicia.... 

DON    DIEGO. 

Detente 

Que  porque  en  esa  sospecha 
Quedes  tambien  satisfecha, 
Informacion  evidente 
Es  saber  que  desde  el  dia 
Que  ser  tu  amante  neg6 
En  Lima,  y  se  retrat6 
De  lo  que  afirmado  habia 
La  Monja  Alfe>ez,  no  vi 
Jamas  su  rostro,  y  responde 
Lo  que  te  he  dicho  al  vizconde 
De  Zolina,  y  no  a  mf. 
Luego  indicio  es  verdadero, 
De  que  no  intento  engaftar, 
Obligarla  £  declarar 
La  verdad  con  tal  tercero. 

DONA   ANA. 

<;  Luego  tii  no  le  has  hablado 

En  la  corte? 

269 


DON    DIEGO. 

Mis  enojos 

No  han  permitido  a  mis  ojos, 
Ver  a  quien  los  ha  causado : 
Y  aunque  es  verdad  que  al  vizconde 
Le  pidi6  que  me  dijese 
Que  yo  con  ella  me  viese ; 
Porque  entiendo  de  que  eseonde 
Algun  misterio  el  deseo 
De  verme,  la  quiero  hablar : 
Yo  no  le  pienso  tocar 
Este  punto  si  la  veo, 
Tanto  porque  es  obligarme 
De  c6lera  a  enloquecer, 
Y  es  en  efeto  muger, 
De  quien  no  puedo  vengarme  : 
Cuando  porque  ella  pudiera 
Sospechar  que  yo  queria 
Con  semejante  porfia, 
No  que  la  verdad  dijera, 
Sino  que,  6  lo  fuese  6  no, 
Dijese  que  era  verdad 
Ser  ella  a  quien  tu  beldad 
For  duefio  solo  estim6, 
Y  fuera  justa  ocasion 
270 


De  mi  infamia  esta  sospecha. 

Y  pues  quedas  satisfecha 

Con  esto  de  mi  intencion, 

Que  no  publiques  te  pido 

Sucesos  tan  contra  ti, 

Y  ten  lastima  de  mi, 

Que  te  adoro  y  te  he  perdido.  (Vase.} 

DONA   ANA. 

Aguarda,  aguarda...Don  Juan. 

ESCENA  V. 
DONA   ANA,    DON   JUAN. 

DON   JUAN. 

<;  Que  me  mandais  ? 

DONA   ANA. 

Que  conmigo 
Os  vengais  a  ser  testigo 
De  lo  que  el  falso  Guzman 
Me  responde  en  este  caso 
A  mi  misma. 

DON  JUAN. 

Justo  es 
Que  te  sirva. 

271 


DONA   ANA. 

El  manto,  Ines, 
Que  de  ofendida  me  abraso.  (Vanse.) 


ESCENA  VL 

GUZMAN  (con  botas  y  unos  papeles),  SEBAS- 
TIAN DE  ILLUMBE  Y  MACHIN. 

GUZMAN. 

De  vos  confio  el  cuidado 
De  acordar  mis  pretensiones, 
En  todas  las  ocasiones 
En  el  consejo  de  estado. 
Estos  los  papeles  son 
De  mis  servicios,  tomad, 
Y  por  los  ojos  pasad 
Esa  certificacion, 
Que  entre  las  demas  os  dejo, 
Que  della  os  informareis 
De  lo  que  pedir  podeis 
En  recompensa  al  consejo. 
272 


SEBASTIAN  (lee). 

Don  Luis  de  Cespedes  Xeria,  gobernador  y  capitan 
general  de  la  provincia  de  Paraguay,  etc. 

Certifico  y  hago  fe  d  S.  M.  que  conozco  £  Catalina  de 
Erauso  de  mas  de  diez  y  ocho  anos  £  esta  parte,  que  en 
habito  de  hombre,  y  soldado  le  ha  servido  en  Chile, 
mas  de  diez  y  siete  en  las  compamas  del  maese  de 
campo  D.  Diego  Brabo  de  Sarabia,  y  del  capitan  Gon- 
zalo  Rodriguez  :  de  la  cual  fue  por  sus  servicios  alferez, 
llamandose  Alonso  Diaz  Ramirez  de  Guzman,  y  se  ha- 
llo en  todas  las  ocasiones  que  se  ofrecieron  con  mucho 
valor,  y  reformada  su  compania,  paso  &  servir  a  la  del 
capitan  Guillen  de  Casanova,  y  fue  por  buen  soldado  de 
los  aventajados,  sacado  para  campear  desde  el  castillo 
de  Paicabi  con  el  maese  de  campo  Alvaro  Nunez  de 
Pineda,  y  se  hallo  en  muchas  batallas  ;  y  recibio  heri- 
das,  y  en  particular  en  la  de  Puren,  donde  llego  a  la 
muerte.  Por  lo  cual  y  por  ser  digna  de  que  S.  M. 
le  haga  merced,  le  di  la  presente,  con  mi  nrma  y 

sello. 

En  Madrid  a  2  de  febrero  de  1625. 

GUZMAN. 

De  aquese  misma  tenor 
Son  las  demas,  esta  es 
De  noble  Don  Juan  Cortes 
De  Monroy,  gobernador 
De  Veraguas :  de  Don  Diego 
Flores  de  Leon,  es  esta, 
Que  en  el  pecho  manifiesta 
La  cruz  del  Patron  Gallego, 

x  273 


Maese  de  campo  a  quien  dan 
En  las  regiones  australes, 
Alabanzas  inmortales 
Sus  hechos :  del  capitan 
Y  cabo  de  companias 
Francisco  de  Navarrete 
Es  aquesta,  que  promete 
Premio  a  las  hazanas  mias ; 
Segun  las  ha  exagerado. 
Estas  son  las  que  en  Madrid 
Pude  juntar,  acudid 
Al  secretario  de  estado 
Que  pienso  que  le  hallareis 
Atento  a  mi  pretension. 

SEBASTIAN. 

<;A  que"  remuneracion 
Os  inclinais  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Si  podeis 

Para  Flandes  negociar 
Una  ventaja,  me  holgara 
Que  su  magestad  premiara 
Mis  hechos  con  emplear 
En  su  servicio  estas  manos  ; 
Que  rabian  ya  por  saber, 
274 


Si  pueden  tambien  veneer 
Flamencos  como  Araucanos. 
Pero  si  al  fin  conquistar 
No  podeis  merced  alguna, 
Pretended  al  menos  una, 
Que  es  mas  facil  de  alcanzar. 

SEBASTIAN. 

<;Cual  es? 

GUZMAN. 

Que  se  me  conceda 
Andar  siempre  de  varon, 
Que  con  esta  permision 
Quedo  pagada  y  contenta. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Pues  sin  tenella  te  pones 
En  su  trage,  <-que  te  inquieta? 
GUZMAN. 

No  quiero  vivir  sujeta 
A  enfados  y  vejaciones. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Por  advertido  me  doy, 
Mas  trata  de  prevenirte, 
Que  es  hora  ya  de  partirte 
Que  en  casa  el  vizconde  voy.  (Vase.) 

275 


ESCENA  VII. 

GUZMAN,     MACHIN,     DON     JUAN, 
DORA  ANA  6  INKS  (con  mantos). 

DON    JUAN. 

Aqui  esta ;    Alferez  Guzman 
Bien  debeis  a  mi  deseo 
Los  brazos. 

MACHIN. 

<;  Que  es  lo  que  veo  ? 
<;  Es  Ines  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Senor  Don  Juan, 
^'Teneis  salud  ? 

.DON    JUAN. 

Bueno  estoy 
Para  serviros. 

GUZMAN. 

<:  Don  Diego  ? 

DON    JUAN. 

A  buscaros  vendra  luego. 

MACHIN. 

Ines  los  brazos  te  doy. 
276 


INES. 

j  C6mo  te  llegas  a  mi 
Testigo  falso !... 

MACHIN. 

Un  criado, 
,?  Qu£  ha  de  hacer  siendo  mandado  ? 

DONA   ANA. 

Guzman,  ^  conoceisme  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Si: 
Bien  te  conozco,  Dona  Ana. 

DONA   ANA. 

^  Pues  c6mo  tu  falso  pecho, 

Si  me  conoces  ha  hecho 

Una  accion  tan  inhumana 

Contra  mi  honor  y  opinion 

Negando  claras  verdades  ? 

<?  For  dicha  te  persuades 

Que  no  hay  ley,  que  no  hay  razon  ? 

i  Que  no  hay  Dios,  que  no  hay  justicia  ? 

Di  que*  intento  te  ha  obligado 

Para  haber  ejecutado 

Tan  detestable  malicia? 

<?Verdad  tan  averiguada, 

No  la  diran  los  que  ves 

277 


Que  la  saben  ?  habla  Ines, 
Habla  Machin.... 

MACHIN. 

No  s£  nada. 

DONA   ANA. 

jAh  traidor,  falso  testigo! 
Mai  haya  yo  que  muger  * 
Naci,  para  no  poder 
Dar  a  entrambos  el  castigo. 

INES. 

<?  Agora  no  me  decias 
Disculpandote,  un  criado 
Que"  ha  de  hacer  siendo  mandado? 

MACHIN. 
No  se*  nada. 

GUZMAN. 

Tus  porfias 

No  han  de  hacer  mudanza  en  mi 
Que  aunque  tu  mal  me  lastima, 
Lo  mismo  que  dije  en  Lima, 
Te  digo,  Dona  Ana,  aqui. 

DONA   ANA. 

^  Es  posible  que  de  Dios 
Te  puedes  tanto  olvidar  ? 

278 


DON  JUAN  (aparte]. 
i  Quien  podra  determinar 
Cual  miente  aqui  de  los  dos  ? 
Pero  Don  Diego  ha  llegado. 

MACHIN  (aparte]. 
Gracias  a  Dios  que  esta  vez 
Se  acabara  la  prenez 
De  engano  tan  dilatado. 

DONA  ANA  (aparte). 
Este  es  Don  Diego  :  ojala 
Vengue  en  este  infame  pecho 
Su  agravio  y  mi  deshonor. 

GUZMAN. 
Ya  se  cumpli6  mi  deseo. 


ESCENA  VIII. 
LOS  DICHOS,  Y  DON  DIEGO. 

DON  DIEGO  (aparte). 
Ya  estoy  con  ver  la  ocasion 
De  tantos  dafios  ardiendo 
En  c6lera,  pero  quiso 

Que  fuese  muger  el  cielo 

279 


Porque  no  pueda  vengarme. 
Dona  Ana  esta  aquf  y  me  huelgo 
For  dejarla  satisfecha. 

MACHIN  (aparte}. 
El  color  pierden  jque  es  esto! 

DON    DIEGO. 

Porque  me  dijo  el  vizconde 
Que  teneis  que  hablarme,1  vengo 
A  hacerlo,  Alfe"rez. 
GUZMAN. 

Sintiera 
En  el  alma  irme  sin  veros. 

DON  DIEGO. 
Hablad,  pues,  que  ya  os  escucho. 

GUZMAN. 

^  Teneis  memoria,  Don  Diego 
De  que  para  descubriros 
Que  era  muger,  el  secreto 
Prometisteis  como  noble? 

DON  DIEGO. 
Si  prometi,  bien  me  acuerdo. 

GUZMAN. 
I  Pues  c6mo  lo  quebrantasteis  ? 

DON    DIEGO. 

Por  daros  la  vida. 
280 


GUZMAN. 

El  celo 

De  Hbrarme,  no  era  justo 
Que  os  obligase  a  rompello, 
Habie"ndoos  yo  prevenido, 
Que  sintiera  mucho  menos 
La  muerte,  que  publicar 
Que  era  muger,  y  asi  viendo 
Que  a  descubrillo  os  movi6 
De  casaros  el  deseo, 
Quise  con  aquel  engafio 
Impediros  el  efeto, 
Y  el  fruto  que  conseguir 
Pensastes  de  haberlo  hecho : 
Hasta  que  vi^ndome  libre 
De  prisiones,  y  volviendo 
A  vestir  varonil  trage 
Y  a  cenir  marcial  acero, 
De  los  agravios,  afrentas, 
Infamias  y  vituperios, 
Que  desde  entonces  aca 
He  padecido  y  padezco, 
For  no  haberme  vos  guardado 
La  palabra  del  secreto, 
Tomara  asi  la  venganza 

281 


Y  os  diera  justo  escarmiento. 
(Dale  a  Don  Diego   con  un  baston ;  y   sacan 
las  espadas.) 
DON  DIEGO. 
jAh  vil! 

MACHIN. 

<;  No  lo  dije  yo  ? 

DONA    ANA. 

jAy  de  mi! 

(Mttese  Don  Juan  por  medio.) 

DON  JUAN. 
<?  Qu£  haceis  Don  Diego  ? 

DON    DIEGO. 

Castigar  una  muger 
Atrevida. 

DON   JUAN. 

Si  vos  mismo 

Decis  que  es  muger,  <;  que*  afrenta 
Una  muger  puede  haceros? 

GUZMAN. 

Mentis  que  no  soy  muger 
Mientras  empuno  este  acero, 
Que  ha  vencido  tantos  hombres. 

DON  DIEGO. 
Apartad,  Don  Juan. 
282 


ESCENA   IX. 

LOS  DICHOS,  EL  VIZCONDE  DE  ZOLINA 
(de  camino\  Y  SEBASTIAN  DE 
ILLUMBE. 

VIZCONDE. 

«i  Qu£  es  esto  ? 

Seftor  Don  Diego,  aguardad  ; 
<•  Sois  hombre  ?  <;  sois  caballero  ? 
«J  Contra  una  muger  sacais 
La  espada  ? 

DON    DIEGO. 

En  nadie  la  empleo 
Mejor,  que  en  una  muger, 
Cuando  me  pierde  el  respeto. 

VIZCONDE. 

Acabad,  sed  mas  prudente 
Que  aunque  os  le  pierda,  os  advierto 
Que  si  os  dais  por  agraviado, 
No  quedareis  satisfecho, 
Aunque  la  muerte  le  deis 
Pues  es  muger,  siendo  cierto 
Que  es  mas  afrenta  que  hazana 
Manchar  en  ella  el  acero. 


GUZMAN. 

j  QUC"  es  muger  L.tanta  muger... 
Tratadme,  vizconde,  menos 
De  muger,  que  perdere^ 
Sobre  ello  al  mundo  el  respeto. 

VIZCONDE. 
Si  lo  eres,  <?  de  qu6  te  agravias  ? 

GUZMAN. 

Si  lo  soy,  ni  lo  confieso, 

Ni  quiero  sufrir  que  nadie 

Me  lo  llame,  y  vos,   Don  Diego, 

Pues  padezco  estas  afrentas 

For  vos,  ni  de  lo  que  he  hecho 

Me  pesa,  ni  soy  muger, 

Si  quereis  satisfaceros. 

SEBASTIAN. 

j  Hay  condicion  mas  estrana ! 

DONA    ANA. 

«;Qud  tigre  te  di6  alimento 
Que  a  la  que  tanto  le  debes 
Tantos  agravios  has  hecho 
Cruel? 

GUZMAN. 

Escucha,  senora, 
Que  pues  mi  agradecimiento 
284 


Y  tu  honor  pudieron  tanto 
En  mi  pecho,  que  me  hicieron 
Solo  porque  tu  sospecha 
Satisfaciese  Don  Diego, 
Descubrir  que  era  muger 
Cuando  estaba  tan  secreto  ; 
Agora  pues  que,  Dona  Ana, 
Es  publico  y  hago  menos 
Y  que  satisface  ya 
Mi  enojo,  y  cesa  con  esto 
La  ocasion,  porque  mi  engafio 
Le  impidid  tu  casamiento, 
Mejor  lo  confesare* 
For  dar  a  tu  honor  remedio, 
Y  no  malograr  fineza, 
Que  tan  a  mi  costa  he  hecho. 
Y  asi,  Don  Diego,  ya  es  justo, 
Restituir  lo  que  debo 
A  Dona  Ana,  declarando 
Que  solo  cupo  en  su  pecho 
Mi  amor  ;   y  pues  habeis  visto 
De  negaroslo  el  intento, 
Dadle  la  mano,  que  yo, 
Si  acaso  consiste  en  esto, 
Porque  ni  vos  repareis 

285 


En  la  ofensa  que  os  he  hecho, 
Ni  ella  se  case  con  quien 
Tenga  el  menor  sentimiento  : 
Y  para  que  efeto  tenga 
Segunda  vez  os  confieso, 
Que  soy  muger,  pues  deshago 
Y  satisfago  con  esto, 
Vuestro  agravio,  pues  decis^ 
Que  soy  muger,  y  es  lo  mesmo 
Que  confesar  que  no  pude 
Agraviaros,  ni  ofenderos : 
Y  si  esto  no  os  satisface, 
Haga  mi  agradecimiento 
Lo  que  no  hiciera  la  muerte 
En  este  invencible  pecho, 

(Arrodfllase.) 

Rindie"ndome  a  vuestros  pies, 
Y  confesdndome  en  ellos 
Vencida,  y  que  a  merced  vuestra 
Vivo,  pues  quedais  con  esto, 
Mucho  mas  que  con  matarme, 
Ventajoso  y  satisfecho. 

DON    DIEGO. 

Levanta,  y  dame  los  brazos, 
Que  no  solamente  quedo 
286 


Satisfecho,  mas  vencido 
Envidioso  del  ejemplo 
Que  de  agradecida  has  dado, 
Y  quisiera  yo  haber  hecho 
Mas  esta  hazana,  que  cuantas 
Han  celebrado  los  tiempos. 

VIZCONDE. 

Nunca  has  mostrado  el  valor 
Como  agora,  de  tu  pecho. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Mas  has  ganado  vencida 
De  tf  misma,  que  venciendo 
EjeVcitos  de  enemigos. 

VIZCONDE. 

Pues  con  aquesto,  y  pidiendo 
Perdon,  tenga  fin  aquf 
Este  caso  verdadero. 
Donde  llega  la  comedia 
Han  llegado  los  sucesos, 
Que  hoy  esta  el  Alfe"rez  Monja 
En  Roma,  y  si  casos  nuevos 
Dieren  materia  a  la  pluma, 
Segunda  parte  os  prometo. 

FIN. 

287 


NOTES   TO   INTRODUCTION 


289 


1  The  baptismal  certificate  is  printed    by  Joaquin 
Maria  de  Ferrer  in  his  edition  of  the  Historia  de  la 
Monja  Alferez,  Dona  Catalina  de  Erauso,  escrita  POT  ella 
misma  (Paris,  1829),  p.  129. 

"  Bautizose  Catalina  de  Erauso  en  diez  de  febrero 
de  dicho  afio  [1592] ,  hija  lejitima  de  Miguel  de 
Erauso,  y  de  Maria  Perez  de  Galarraga.  Padrinos 
Pedro  de  Galarraga,  y  Maria  Velez  de  Aranalde. 
Ministro  el  vicario  Alvisua." 

In  the  greater  part  of  Spain,  and  more  particularly 
in  the  Basque  Provinces,  baptism  takes  place  as  soon 
as  possible  after  birth  :  it  was — and  even  still  is — 
frequently  administered  on  the  day  of  birth. 

2  Part  I.,  Chapter  xxxix. 

3  In  Catalina  de  Erauso's  petition  to  the   King  of 
Spain,   Miguel  is  described  as  an  alferez  or  ensign  : 
Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  p.  136.     But  he  is  called  Captain  in 
other  contemporary  documents  such  as  the  Capitulo 
de  una   Carta   de  Cartagena    de  Indias   dando   cuenta 
de  una  monja  que,  en  hdbito  de  hombre,  fue  soldado  en 
Chile  y  Tipoan,  y  de  sus  hazanas  con  los  Indios  Chiles  y 
Chambos  (Seville,  1618  [a  misprint  for  1625])  :  see  the 
reprint  (Madrid,  1903)  by  D.  Victoriano  Suarez,  p.  9. 

4  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  pp.  137-138.     "  Por  tanto  y  porque 
asi  bien  interpone  los  servicios  del  capitan  Miguel  de 
Erauso  su  padre,  y  del  dicho  alferez  Miguel  de  Erauso, 
y  de  Francisco  de  Erauso,  que  sirvio  en  la  armada  de 
Lima  con   D.  Rodrigo  de   Mendoza,  y   Domingo   de 
Erauso    que  se    fue    en    la    armada    que    salio    para 
Brasil.  .  .  ." 

s  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  pp.  130-131. 

6  The  convent-fees  for  the  three  daughters  of  Captain 
Miguel  de  Erauso,  covering  the  expenses  of  1603,  were 
paid  in  1604  :  see  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  p.  132. 
290 


7  Ibid.,  p.  132. 

8  Ibid.,  p.  133. 

9  Ibid.,  pp.  135-143,  I56-I58- 

10  This  is  her  own  statement,  and  is  supported  by 
the   four   officers    under  whom   she   served.     In  the 
Capitulo  de  una  Carta  de  Cartagena  de  Indias  she  is 
said  to  have   been  known   as   Francisco  de   Loyola, 
"  and    up    to    the    present   the  name  has   not    been 
changed  "  ;  and  by  Gil  Gonzalez  Davila  her  pseudonym 
is  given  as  Pedro  de  Orive  :  see  Monarquia  de  Espana 
(Madrid,  1770-1771),  vol.  iii.  1296. 

11  The  incident  of  the  street-brawl  is  reported  by 
Pietro  della  Valle  (II   Pellegrino)  on  the  authority  of 
Catalina  herself  :  in  her  petition  to  the  King  of  Spain 
she  discreetly  refers  to  it  as  "an  incident  which  it  is 
out  of  place  to  relate  here." 

In  the  Capitulo  de  una  Carta  de  Cartagena  de  Indias 
the  date  of  the  avowal  is  given  as  July  8,  1617.  This 
is  certainly  wrong,  for  Recio  de  Leon  declares  in  two 
passages  of  his  statement  that  Catalina  de  Erauso 
served  under  him  in  1620. 

12  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  p.  141. 

'3  This  is  the  signature  which  she  attached  to  several 
official  documents  during  her  stay  in  Spain,  but  her 
petition  to  the  King  of  Spain  is  drawn  up  in  the  name 
of  "  El  Alferez  Dona  Catalina  de  Erauso." 

x«  Gonzalez  Davila  states  that  Catalina  "  arrived  at 
Madrid  in  the  month  of  December,  1624,  and  came  to 
my  house,  dressed  as  a  soldier." 

*s  Historia  de  la  vida  y  hechos  del  inclito  monarca, 
amado  y  santo  D.  Felipe  Tercero,  1296-1300.  This 
posthumous  work  forms  vol.  iii.  of  the  Monarquia  de 
Espana  already  mentioned  in  note  10. 

16  Pietro  della  Valle  (II  Pellegrino),  De'  Viaggi  .  .  . 

291 


Parte  Terza,  doe  V India,  co'l  ritorno  alia  Patria  (Roma, 
1658-1663),  vol.  iv.  p.  499.  "  lo  sapeva  gia  di  lei  nell' 
India  Orientale,  doue  m'haueua  sentito  parlare,  che  fin 
la  era  arriuata  la  sua  fama,  e  piu  volte  ne  haueua 
desiderate  particolare  informatione.  .  .  ." 

J7  Relation  verdadera  de  las  grandes  hazanas,  y  vale- 
rosos  hechos  en  veynte  y  quatro  afios  que  siruio  en  el 
Reyno  de  Chile  y  otras  paries  al  Rey  nuestro  senor,  en 
abito  de  soldado  .  .  .  sacada  de  vn  original,  que  dexo 
en  Madrid  en  casa  de  Bernardino  de  Guzman  (Madrid- 
Sevilla,  1625). 

18  Segunda  Relacion  de  la  mas  copiosa  y  verdadera  que 
ha  salido  (Madrid-Sevilla,  1625).  The  date  is  misprinted 
"  1615." 

'9  Segunda  relacion  de  los  famosos  hechos  que  en  el 
Reyno  de  Chile  hizo  una  varonil  muger  sirviendo  veynte 
y  quatro  anos  de  soldado  en  servicio  de  su  Magestad  el  Rey 
nuestro  Sefior,  en  el  qual  tiempo  tuvo  muy  onrosos  cargos 
(Sevilla,  1625).  This  was  published  by  Juan  de  Cabrera: 
the  previous  accounts  were  issued  by  Bernardino  de 
Guzman  at  Madrid,  and  by  Simon  Faxardo  at  Seville. 

20  La  Monja  Alferez  was  printed  in  the  form  of  an 
undated  suelta ;  but,  from  the  closing  lines,  which 
speak  of  the  heroine  as  being  at  present  in  Rome, 
we  may  assume  the  play  to  have  been  written  in 
1626. 

Donde  llega  la  comedia 

Han  llegado  los  sucesos, 

Que  hoy  esta  el  Alferez  Monja 

En  Roma,  y  si  casos  nuevos 

Dieren  materia  a  la  pluma, 

Segunda  parte  os  prometo. 

In  El  Bachiller  Trapaza  Alonso  de  Castillo  Solorzano 
292 


states  that  Luis  de  Belmonte  Bermudez  also  wrote  a 
play  entitled  La  Monja  Alferez :  if  so,  it  has  been 
lost. 

21  An  eye-witness,  Juan  Perez  de  Liquendi,  states 
that  the  arrest  took  place  "  in  the  open  country  near 
the  city  of  Piu."  I  have  followed  Ferrer  (op.  «'/., 
p.  152,  w.),  who  identifies  "  Piu "  as  La  Tour  du  Pin, 
on  the  road  to  Chamberi. 

aa  Ferrer,  op.  a'/.,  pp.  143-155.  Catalina  de  Erauso's 
declaration  was  actually  confirmed  by  six  persons,  but 
only  four  appear  to  have  witnessed  her  arrest  and 
imprisonment. 

23  The  date  of  the  visit  is  given  as  July  5,  1626,  in 
Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  p.  122  ;  but  Valle  himself  dates  the  visit 
a  month  earlier. 

««  Valle,  op.  «'/.,  vol.  iv.  pp.  499-500.  "  Alii  5 
Giugno  venne  la  prima  volta  in  casa  mia  VAlfiere 
Caterina  d'Arcuso  Biscaina,  venuta  di  Spagna,  & 
arriuata  in  Roma  appunto  il  giorno  innanzi.  Era 
costei  vna  donzella  d'eta  all'  hora  di  trentacinque  in 
quarant'  anni  in  circa.  .  .  .  lo  poi  1'ho  fatta  conoscere 
in  Roma  a  diuerse  Dame,  e  Caualieri,  de  quali  assai 
piu,  che  delle  Donne  amaua  la  conuersatione.  II 
Signer  Francesco  Crescentio,  che  sa  dipinger  molto 
bene,  Pha  ritratta  di  sua  mano.  Ella  e  di  statura  grande, 
e  grossa  per  donna,  che  non  si  puo  per  quella  cono- 
scere che  non  sia  huomo  :  no  ha  petto  che  da 
giouinetta,  mi  disse  hauer  fatto  no  so  che  di  rimedio 
per  farselo  seccare,  e  restar  quasi  piano  .  .  .  di  viso 
non  e  ingrata,  ma  non  bella,  e  si  conosce  essere  stra- 
pazzata  alquanto,  &  horamai  d'eta,  e  con  i  capelli 
negri,  e  corti  da  huomo  con  vn  poco  di  zazzeretta, 
com'  hoggi  s'vsa ;  rappresenta  in  effetto  piu  un 
Eunucho,  che  vna  donna  :  Veste  da  huomo  alia 

293 


Spagnuola,  porta  la  spada,  e  ben  cinta,  e  cosi  anche 
la  vita  ;  ma  la  testa  bassetta  alquanto  ;  e  com'  vn  poco 
aggobbatella,  piu  tosto  da  soldato  stentato,  che  da 
cortegiano  che  vada  su  1'amorosa  vita.  Alia  mano  solo 
si  puo  conoscere  esser  donna,  che  1'ha  pienotta,  e 
carnosa,  se  bene  robusta,  e  forte  e  la  muoue  ancora 
donnescamente  alquanto." 

The  detail  concerning  the  dispensation  to  wear  men's 
clothes  is  taken  from  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  p.  120. 

2s  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  pp.  120-121.  Catalina  de  Erauso 
returned  on  a  vessel  belonging  to  the  squadron  com- 
manded by  Miguel  de  Echazarreta :  he  is  stated  to 
have  been  captain  of  the  ship  which  took  her  to 
America  some  twenty-three  years  previously. 

2(5  Vicente  Riva  Palacio,  Mexico  a  traves  de  los  siglos 
(Mexico,  1888-1896),  vol.  ii.  p.  622. 

27  The  text  of  Catalina's  letter  is  as  follows :  "Quando 
las  personas  de  mi  calidad  entran  en  una  casa  con  su 
nobleza,  tienen  asegurada  la  fidelidad  del  buen  trato, 
y  no  habiendo  el  mio  excedido  los  limites  que  piden 
sus  partes  de  vm.,  es  deslumbramiento  impedirme  el 
entrar  en  su  casa,  demas  que  me  han  certificado,  que  si 
por  su  calle  paso,  me  ha  de  dar  la  muerte,  y  assi,  yo 
aunque  mujer  pareciendole  imposible  a  mi  valor,  para 
que  vea  mis  bizarrfas,  y  consiga  lo  que  blasona,  le 
aguardo  sola  detras  de  San  Diego  desde  la  una  hasta  las 
seis.  Dona  Chatherina  de  Erauzu." 

38  Ferrer,  op.  cit.,  p.  121. 

29  Ibid.,  pp.  121-122.  "  .  .  .  Era  de  buen  cuerpo,  no 
pocas  carnes,  color  trigueno,  con  algunos  pocos  pelillos 
por  bigote." 

3°  Riva  Palacio,  op.  cit.,  p.  621.  In  an  essay  to  which 
reference  is  made  later  Valon,  who  is  followed  by 
De  Quincey,  gives  it  to  be  understood  that  Catalina 
394 


was  drowned  off  Veracruz  :  this  is  not  supported 
by  any  evidence,  and  appears  to  be  a  wild  sur- 
mise. 

3*  Relation  prodigiosa  de  la  vida  y  hechos  de  Catalina 
de  Erauso,  monja  de  Espana,  soldado  y  alferez  en  Lima, 
y  traficante  en  Mexico,  donde  falletio  en  el  pueblo  de 
Cuitlaxtla  el  ano  de  i6$o  (Mexico,  1653). 

3s  Published  at  Madrid  in  1793.  Munoz,  who  died 
in  1799,  incorporates  material  from  the  then  unpub- 
lished Historia  general  de  las  continuadas  guerras  y 
diftcil  conquista  del  gran  reino  y  provincias  de  Chile 
by  Luis  Tribaldos  de  Toledo. 

33  This  copy,  used  by  Ferrer,  is  now  in  the  library  of 
the  Royal  Academy  of  History  at  Madrid.     Another 
manuscript  of  the  work  was  in  the  possession  of  Sr.  D. 
Sancho  Rayon  a  few  years  ago. 

34  Ferrer,  op.  «'/.,  pp.  xvj-xxxv. 

35  By  Jules  Didot. 

36  Revue  encyclopedique  ou  Analyse  raisonnee  des  pro- 
ductions les  plus  remarquables  dans  les  sciences,  les  arts 
industriels,   la  literature  el  les  Beaux  Arts.      Par  une 
reunion  de  Membres  de  PInstitut  et  d'autres  hommes 
de  lettres  (Paris,  Juillet-Septembre,   1829),  vol.   xliii. 
pp.  742-744- 

&  Histoire  de  la  Monja- Alferez  (Paris,  1830).  A  copy 
of  this  rarity  is  in  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale. 

38  Under  the  title  of  Die  Nonne-Fahnrich,  oderGeschichte 
der  Dona  Catalina  de  Erauso,  von  ihr  selbst  geschrieben 
(Aachen  und  Leipzig,  1830).  The  translator,  Andreas 
Daniel  Berthold  von  Schepeler,  had  resided  in  Spain, 
and  was  a  good  Spanish  scholar.  He  is  the  author  of 
the  Geschichte  der  Revolutions  Spaniens  und  Portugals, 
und  besonders  des  daraus  entstandenen  Krieges  (Posen 
und  Bamber,  1826-1827)  and  the  Geschichte  der 

295 


spanischen  Monarchic  von  1810  bis  1823  (Aachen  und 
Leipzig,  1829-1833). 

39  Musee  des  Families,  Lectures  du  soir  (Paris,  1839), 
vol.  vi.  pp.  303-311. 

4°  Revue  des  deux  mondes,  5me  serie  (Paris,  Fevrier  15, 
1847),  pp.  589-637.  The  article  was  reprinted  by  the 
author  in  his  Nouvelles  et  Critiques  (Paris,  1851). 

4*  Tail's  Edinburgh  Magazine  (Edinburgh,  1847), 
vol.  xiv.  pp.  324-333,  369-376,  431-440.  The  three 
instalments  appeared  in  the  numbers  for  May,  June, 
and  July :  there  is  an  error  in  the  pagination  of  the 
last  instalment,  which  is  accidentally  numbered  u  231- 
240." 

v  La  Ilustracion  Espanola  y  Americana  (Madrid,  July 
8,  1892). 

«  La  Nonne  Alferez.  Illustrations  de  Daniel  Vierge 
gravees  par  Privat- Richard  (Paris,  1894). 

44  Ferrer  (op,  cit.,  p.  168)  calculates  that  three  years 
twenty-two  days  elapsed  between  the  flight  from  the 
convent  and  the  embarkation  for  America. 

45  Ibid.,  pp.  xxxvij-xlviij. 

46  In  the  opening  paragraph — omitted  in  the  reprints 
— of  the  article  in  Tail's  Edinburgh  Magazine  De  Quincey 
wrote  :  "  M.  de  Ferrer,  a  Spaniard  of  much  research, 
and  originally  incredulous  as  to   the  facts,  published, 
about  seventeen  years  ago,  a  selection  from  the  lead- 
ing documents,   accompanied  by  his  palinode  as  to 
their  accuracy.     His    materials   have   since   been  the 
basis  of  more  than  one  narrative,  not  inaccurate,  in 
French,  German,  and  Spanish  journals  of  high  authority. 
It  is  seldom  the  case  that  French  writers  err  by  pro- 
lixity.   They  have  done  so  in  this  case.    The  present 
narrative,  which  contains  no  sentence  derived  from  any 
foreign  one,  has  the  great  advantage  of  close  compres- 
296 


sion  ;  my  own  pages,  after  equating  the  size,  being 
i  to  3  of  the  shortest  continental  form.  In  the  mode 
of  narration,  I  am  vain  enough  to  flatter  myself  that  the 
reader  will  find  little  reason  to  hesitate  between  us. 
Mine  will,  at  least,  weary  nobody  ;  which  is  more  than 
can  always  be  said  for  the  continental  versions." 

De  Quincey  implies  that  he  had  read  Ferrer  as  well 
as  the  narratives  based  on  Ferrer  "  in  French,  German, 
and  Spanish  journals  of  high  authority"  ;  it  is,  however, 
evident  that  he  had  read  nothing  on  the  subject  except 
Valon's  article.  He  seems  to  have  felt  that  he  had  gone 
too  far,  for,  when  reprinting  his  article  in  1854,  he  made 
the  following  statement  in  a  postscript :  u  I  must  not 
leave  the  impression  upon  my  readers  that  this  complex 
body  of  documentary  evidence  has  been  searched  and 
appraised  by  myself.  Frankly  I  acknowledge  that,  on 
the  sole  occasion  when  any  opportunity  offered  itself 
for  such  a  labour,  I  shrank  from  it  as  too  fatiguing — 
and  also  as  superfluous.  .  .  ."  Professor  Masson's 
comment  is :  "  This  seems  to  be  De  Quincey's  way 
of  saying  that,  to  as  late  as  1854,  he  had  never  had 
an  opportunity  of  examining  the  original  of  Kate's 
memoirs  in  M.  de  Ferrer's  book."  This  is  proved  by  a 
passage  in  the  postscript  which  speaks  of  the  published 
autobiography  as  being  "  mobbed  and  hustled  by  a 
gang  of  misbelieving  (i.e.,  miscreant)  critics,"  headed  by 
Ferrer.  In  1854  De  Quincey  was  still  unaware  that 
the  text  had  been  published  for  the  first  time  by  Ferrer 
himself. 

47  See  the  preface  to  La  Nonne  Alferez,  pp.  v-vii. 

48  Apuntes  para  una  biblioteca  de  escritoras  espanolas 
desdc  el  ano  1401  al  1883  (Madrid,  1903-1905),  vol.  i. 

PP.  388-392- 

49  Candido  Maria  Trigueros  was  born  at  Orgaz  in 

297 


1736  ;  he  appears  to  have  died  in  1802,  but  the  exact 
date  of  his  death  is  unknown. 

3°  La  Estrella  de  Sevilla,  El  Anzuelo  de  Fenisa,  and  Los 
Melindres  de  Belisa  were  recast  by  Trigueros  under  the 
respective  titles  of  Sancho  Ortiz  de  las  Roelas,  La  Buscona, 
and  La  Melindrosa  6  los  esclavos  supuestos. 

s1  Comentarios  de  el  desenganado  de  si  mesmo,  prueba 
de  todos  estados  y  election  del  mejor  de  ellos,  6  sea  Vida  de 
el  mesmo  autor,  que  lo  es  Don  Diego  Duque  de  Estrada 
(Madrid,  1860). 

s2  Vida  del  soldado  espanol  Miguel  de  Castro,  escrita  por 
el  mismo  y  publicada  por  A.  Paz  y  Melia  (Barcelona- 
Madrid,  1900).  This  forms  vol.  ii.  of  M.  R.  Foulche- 
Delbosc's  Bibliotheca  Hispanica. 

S3  Vida  del  Capitdn  Alonso  de  Contreras,  Caballero  del 
hdbito  de  San  Juan,  natural  de  Madrid,  escrita  por  el 
mismo  (anos  1582  a  1633).  Publicala  con  una  intro- 
duction M.  Serrano  y  Sanz  (Madrid,  1900). 

s*  As  edited  by  Pascual  de  Gayangos,  it  forms  vol.  xii. 
of  the  Memorial  historico  espanol. 


NOTES   TO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


*99 


CHAPTER   I 

1  It  is  proved  that  Catalina  de  Erauso  was  baptized 
at  San  Sebastian  on   February    10,    1592  ;    from  this 
it    follows  that  many  of   the    subsequent    dates    are 
wrong. 

2  Three  of  Catalina's  brothers  are  mentioned  in  the 
text:    see  Chapter  VI.,  p.   32,    and    Chapter    XXII., 
p.  127. 

3  Three  of  Catalina's  sisters  entered  the  convent  of 
San  Sebastian  el  Antiguo.     Mari-Juan  de  Erauso  was 
professed  on  April  23,  1605,  and  died  on  September  21, 
1655  ;  Isabel  de  Erauso  was  professed  on  December  17, 
1606,  and  died  on  January  8,  1617  ;  Jacinta  de  Erauso 
was  professed   on  November   15,  1615,  and   died  on 
March  8,  1649. 

*  Catalina  was  not  born  till  three  years  after  this 
date. 

5  Soror  Catalina  de  Jesus  y  Aliri  was  professed  on 
November  20,  1605,  at  which  date  the  Madre  Joana  de 
Lozcano  was  prioress.     Soror  Catalina  de  Jesus  y  Aliri 
was  herself  prioress  of  the  convent  for  fifteen  years 
before  her  death,  which  took  place  on   October   15, 
1657.    The  record  of  her  profession  does  not  state  that 
she  was  a  widow. 

6  Roughly  speaking  a  real  =  6£d.     A  real  de  a  ocho 
contained  eight  reales,  and  was  worth  about  43.  4d.      It 
is  represented  by  the  dollar  in  the  United  States  and 
Canada. 

7  The  doblon  de  a  dos  (=  2  gold  escudos)  contained 
23^  reales  and  was  worth  about  123.     This  is  probably 
the   coin   mentioned  in  the  text  ;  but  there  was  also 
a  doblon  de  a  cuatro,  worth  about  £i  45. 


300 


CHAPTER  II 

1  The  dollar,  or  real  de  a  ocho,  was  also  called  a 
peso  de  A  ocho  or  peso  de  plata  (besides  other  names 
which  need  not  be  given  here).  Later  on,  at  about 
the  date  of  Catalina  de  Erauso's  adventures,  the  real  de 
a  ocho  was  commonly  called  a  pesofuerte  or  peso  duro ; 
this  name  was  abbreviated  during  the  last  third  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  since  when  the  coin  has  been 
known  as  a  peso  in  Spanish  America  and  as  a  duro 
in  Spain. 

CHAPTER   III 

1  Un  dia  de  fiesta  might  be  either  a  Sunday  or  a 
holiday  of  obligation  ;  but  the  context  shows  that  the 
former  is  intended  here. 

a  According  to  Ferrer,  apart  from  the  actual  wound, 
to  slash  a  man's  face — rayar  la  cam,  or,  in  nautical 
slang,  pintar  un  jabeque — is  a  gross  insult. 

3  Espada  in  the  original.  "  A  Frenchman  called  his 
arm,  '  esp6e '  ;  an  Englishman,  '  sword.'  Both,  when 
they  talked  of  the  Spaniard's  sword,  called  it  a  rapier." 
See  Mr.  Egerton  Castle,  Schools  and  Masters  of  Fence 
from  the  Middle  Ages  to  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century 
(London,  1892),  pp.  29-30. 

*  The  meaning  no  doubt  is  that  this  was  the  first 
time  Catalina  was  imprisoned  in  America  ;  she  had 
already  spent  "  a  longish  month  "  in  jail  at  Bilbao  : 
see  Chapter  I.,  p.  7. 

CHAPTER  V 

1  Cp.  Robert  Barret,  The  Theorike  and  Practike  of 
Moderne  Warres  (London,  1598).  In  "A  Table,  show- 

301 


ing  the  signification  of  sundry  forraine  words,  used 
in  these  discourses,"  Barret  writes  :  "  Campe  Maisterr 
in  Spanish  Maestro  del  Campo,  is  a  Colonell  :  being 
the  chiefe  Commander  or  officer  ouer  one  Regiment  or 
Tertio." 

CHAPTER  VIII 

1  A  veinticuatro  is  a  superior  alderman  with  functions 
somewhat  resembling  those  of  a  mayor. 

a  The  "native  sheep  of  burden"  is  £he  llama,  the 
camel  of  South  America. 


CHAPTER   IX 

1  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  text  refers  to  the 
ordinary  peso  duro  mentioned  on  p.  301,  «.  i,  or  to  the 
Peruvian  peso  ensayado,  a  weight  of  silver  (not  a  coin) 
worth  13^  reales — a  little  more  than  js. 


CHAPTER  XI 

1  See  Chapter  VIII.,  p.  53. 

2  A  fanega  =  no    lb.,    and    is    therefore    roughly 
equivalent  to  a  bushel. 

CHAPTER  XIII 

1  According  to  Mr.  Egerton  Castle,  the  Spanish  shell 
dagger,  corresponding  to  the  main  gauche  of  the  French, 
"  combined  the  advantages  of  the  target,  or  broquel,  and 
the  dagger,  and  was  especially  convenient  with  heavy 
rapiers."  That  bouts  played  with  rapier  and  dagger  were 
frequent  is  evident  from  Hamlet  (Act  V.  sc.  ii.)  : — 
302 


Osric.  You  are  not  ignorant  of  what  excellence  Laertes  is 

Hamlet.  I  dare  not  confess  that,  lest  I  should  compare  with 
him  in  excellence  ;  but  to  know  a  man  well,  were  to  know 
himself. 

Osric.  I  mean,  sir,  for  his  weapon  ;  but  in  the  imputation  laid  on 
him  by  them,  in  his  meed  he's  unfellowed. 

Hamlet.  What's  his  weapon  ? 

Osric.  Rapier  and  dagger. 

Hamlet.  That's  two  of  his  weapons  ;  but,  well. 

As  the  action  of  Hamlet  takes  place  long  before 
Shakespeare's  time,  the  passage  is  inappropriate  ;  but  it 
records  the  contemporary  practice  at  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth  century. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

1  The  incidents  recorded  in  this  chapter  are  probably 
apocryphal :  they  appear  to  be  suggested  by  Perez  de 
Montalban's  play,  La  Monja  Alferez,  Jornada  I.,  Escena 
vi.,  and  Jornada  II.,  Escena  viii. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

1  Cincuenta :  probably  a  slip  for  quince  (fifteen).  In 
the  declaration  made  at  Pamplona  on  July  28,  1625, 
Catalina  states  that  she  was  imprisoned  for  fourteen 
days. 

*  Antoine  de  Gramont,  son  of  Philibert  de  Gramont 
and  Diane  d'Andouins,  la  belle  Corisande,  the  mistress  of 
Henri  IV.  According  to  Anthony  Hamilton,  Henri  IV. 
was  prepared  to  recognise  Antoine  de  Gramont  as 
his  son  ;  but  this  seems  to  be  merely  a  proud  family 
tradition. 

303 


~Cbe  Oresbam  press, 

CNWIN  BROTHERS,  LIMITED, 
WOKING  AND  LONDON. 


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